


Enemies to Peace

by Escalus



Series: Enemies to Peace [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Coma, Episode: s05e11 The Last Chimera, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Prison, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 86,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7824919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escalus/pseuds/Escalus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In "The Last Chimera," an angry and distraught Stiles assaults Scott in the hospital corridor when Scott comes to see about the Sheriff and Lydia.   Stiles' attack puts Scott into a coma, and the consequences of that reckless action has a far reaching impact on the pack, their parents, and Beacon Hills itself.</p><p>When Scott awakens from the coma, he reconnects with Isaac.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. O Brawling Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not necessarily a fix-it in the sense that it is what I wanted to happen. It is more a meditation about what may have happened. People tend to focus on Stiles in this scene and the trauma he is going through, yet many people forget the extent of Scott's injuries, including the fact that he wasn't healing, still bleeding, and had recently passed out in his own hallway at home. 
> 
> Even though Stiles doesn't have superhuman strength doesn't mean he can't do real damage, especially when the target of his rage was in a fragile state. The show, of course, couldn't do something as radical as remove Scott for a season to show the consequences of the attack. That is what fan-fiction is for. 
> 
> I also want to explore the maturing relationship between Scott and Isaac.
> 
> The title and the chapter titles are from Romeo and Juliet

“Where were you Scott? Where the hell were you?”

Scott didn’t say anything; Stiles was on him and in his face and yelling. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say? That he couldn’t be in two places at once? He felt dizzy and sick and Stiles was so very angry. He could have pushed him off, but he wouldn’t want to hurt Stiles.

Then Scott was on the floor and the room was spinning. Stiles was saying “Okay,” but it sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away. He needed to close his eyes for a moment. A few moments were all he needed.

******

He woke to the sound of birds singing. Scott’s first thought was how were there birds inside the hospital? His second thought was how did they get him into a bed so fast? His mom must have moved him to a room immediately. He wished she hadn’t done that; he would have been fine in a couple of minutes.

Except when he opened his eyes, he wasn’t in a room at Beacon Hills Memorial. The room was smaller than any room at the hospital, and it seemed to be part of a far older building. The walls were white plaster covering stone; the ceiling was tall and had no light fixtures. There were several lamps, but they were stand-alone lamps in two different corners. The window, which was open, had a wooden inswing casement. It looked old but still in good repair. 

In the corner nearest to his bed, there was an IV and some other medical equipment. The bed itself was a hospital bed, but rather old fashioned, like it came from the 1950s. Other than that, this could have been someone’s bedroom, though rather bland. In the corner without medical equipment or lamps, there was a chest of drawers with a mirror.

Scott sat up and swung his legs off the bed. He felt a little weaker than normal, but he was able to stand up, unsteadily. He wasn’t wearing the clothes he had been wearing when he had gone to the hospital; it was some sort of medical gown. He was startled; how long had he been unconscious? He checked himself only to find that the wounds from Liam and Theo had healed. He felt relieved; maybe all he needed was to sleep for a while.

He went to the door and tried to open it, but he was shockingly repelled when he tried to do so. The wood of the door frame was activated mountain ash. He frowned; was this place a cell? Scott went to the window to find that it was also activated mountain ash. He looked over the grounds, which were a long gentle slope covered by a garden. At the bottom of the hill, there was a lake, but he didn’t recognize it. He didn’t recognize the trees or the flowers in the garden. Everything was off. He was not even sure he was in California.

The door opened and a woman stood outside the threshold of the door. She was maybe thirty, dark-hair cut short, dressed in a linen skirt and blouse; her face was open and not hostile, but she was obviously surprised to see him out of bed. Scott felt she smelt of nurse. Was she his nurse? “Uhm, hello?” He asked, feeling suddenly vulnerable, trapped in a room and in a gown which offered little protection. 

She did not seem angry or afraid after she overcame her surprise; she actually smiled at him. It was a professional smile, one he had seen his mother use many times, so she probably _was_ a nurse. Then she shut the door on him. Scott was confused, but he remarked grimly to himself, that was nothing new. He needed to figure out where he was, and then he had to get home. There was too much to do in Beacon Hills. 

“Shit.” He shouldn’t curse, but he was feeling really frustrated. He went to the chest of drawers and looked in the mirror closely; he let his eyes go red. He was relieved, but there was a small part of him that was disappointed as well. His mom thought he could make this right, but he knew he had really screwed up this time. How was he supposed to make everything all right?

He went through the drawers below the mirror. He relaxed with a sigh. There were clothes here that were his clothes; he doubted that people who meant him ill would go through the trouble of getting clothes from his house. He put some jeans and a black t-shirt on; he didn’t feel sick and the gown made him feel uncomfortable. 

The door opened up once more and Isaac Lahey was standing in the doorway. He looked the same as he did on the day he left, but he had grown a moustache. Or more accurately, he had tried to grow a moustache, but it consisted of a thin dusting of hair on his upper lip.

“Isaac!” Scott had seldom been happier to see a person in his life. No matter how bad he felt, he couldn’t help smiling.

“So, you’re up. That’s great.” Isaac smiled back at him, tentatively. It was a strange choice of words. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Uhm. Better now that I’ve seen you, but I’m a little confused. Where am I? Why am I trapped?”

Isaac grimaced. “It would be best if I answered one question at a time. Don’t be afraid.” He turned to someone on his left; Scott realized it was the nurse-looking woman. She must have gone and found Isaac. « Janelle, sil-vous-plait. » 

There was a noise outside, like some bolt was being slid. Isaac stepped into the room, stopped for a second, took three more steps forward, and hugged him. Scott hadn’t realized how he wanted that; he returned the hug hard. “I missed you so much,” he whispered to the taller werewolf. 

“Don’t tell Chris this, but I did, too.” Isaac smiled again. “So, you have questions.”

Scott knew people thought he was slow, but he could catch on eventually. Isaac was here, he didn’t recognize the landscape, and he wasn’t sure that Janelle knew English. “Dude, are we in France?”

“You are at the Chateau D’Argent a little ways north of Langogne in Lozère.” Isaac explained. “Chris owns it.”

“Chris owns a castle?” Scott was flabbergasted. Allison had never mentioned it. “So, how did I get to France?”

Isaac went and sat down on the bed. “It’s not really a castle; it’s more of an elaborate hunting lodge. Those French kings liked their fancy places. Why don’t you sit down?” He looked lost for a moment, like he wasn’t sure how to talk about things. Scott began to get worried. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Scott’s good mood at seeing Isaac vanished; his instincts told him that he wasn’t going to like what he heard. “I passed out in a hallway in the hospital.” There was no need to mention why.

Isaac gave him a look that was a mixture of pity and exasperation. He must have known what had happened. “You’ve been here for nearly six months, Scott. You were in a coma. You don’t …” Isaac swallowed. “You don’t remember any of it?”

Scott felt his jaw fall open. Six months? Six months! It couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be real. This had to be a dream. He immediately started counting his fingers, as Stiles had taught him. 

There were ten. That meant this wasn’t a dream. That meant that everyone back in Beacon Hills had had to deal with everything going down, with Theo and the Dread Doctors, by themselves. He’d just … he had just abandoned them.

Scott gasped out. “Why?”

Isaac put a hand on his shoulder, but his words were sarcastic. “Scott, you’re a True Alpha. I don’t know who told you that meant you were invulnerable, but you aren’t. You can be really badly hurt. Melissa told Chris and me what happened. This Theo asshole poisoned you with wolfsbane; he got your beta to beat you until you were almost dead, and then he tore your chest open so you were dead for fifteen minutes.” 

“I know that,” Scott protested.

“And instead of giving yourself time to recover or even time to heal, you got up the next day. That deputy told me he found you passed out in the hallway, but you still went to the hospital.”

Scott shook his head. “You don’t understand. Lydia and the sheriff were hurt. I had to go see if they were okay.”

“No, you didn’t.” Isaac’s sarcasm reached a new pitch, as it was now married to agitation. “You know one of the reasons I left? I left because I couldn’t stand the thought of staying in that town and watching you throw your life away, because I always knew that was exactly what you were going to do.”

Scott was stunned. “What? 

Isaac suddenly stood up and walked out of the room. By the time he reached the end of the hallway, he was running. Scott stood up to follow him; why was Isaac acting that way? He made it to the door before he paused from the wave of dizziness that swept over him. Janelle was waiting for him on the other side of the hallway. « Voulez-vous quelque chose à manger? » 

Scott put one hand on the wall. “I’m afraid I don’t speak French.” 

In heavily accented English, Janelle asked. “Would you like to eat?”

Scott nodded affirmatively and thanked her, suspecting she could understand that much English. The nurse led him into a kitchen, he supposed. It had modern appliances nestled among the eighteenth-century style. There was a table with a place already set. She got him a bowl of soup; he thought it was potato soup.

It made sense. He hadn’t eaten anything on his own for months; it was probably safest to go with soft foods. He wasn’t sure though, because he didn’t know that much about human comas let alone werewolf comas … wait a minute.

He did know about werewolf comas. Peter talked about his coma. Peter talked _all the time_ about his coma. How he was awake and cognizant but unable to do anything; how it drove him mad. Scott looked down at his soup. Maybe this was a trick. Maybe this was some sort of mind game. The Doctors had done something similar to them before during his pack's attempt to protect Hayden and capture one of the Doctors in the school. Maybe none of this was real.

Or maybe he had gone mad and couldn't remember going mad. His heart rate sped up and his claws came out and he knew that suddenly he was on the verge of losing control. He stared at the soup and made himself see his friends’ faces in it. It was a stupid idea to try to focus in this manner; it was a bowl of soup. But, miraculously, it did calm him down. 

Whatever was going on, he had to remain in control. He finished his soup, thanked Janelle once more and then went to look for Isaac. If this was a mind game, then the only way to get through it was to act, not to react. If this was a delusion, he had to trust his friends to get him out.

As he was leaving the kitchen, he stopped in next room, surprised by what he found: a phone that had a rotary dial instead of buttons. If this was real, he was going to tease Chris so much. Part of him that was aware he was only a kid wanted to ask Janelle if he could use it, but he couldn’t risk her saying ‘no.’ Luckily for him, all those trips to Mexico had taught him how to dial internationally, which wasn’t as easy as it might sound.

He called home. He wanted to hear Mom’s voice so much, that he didn’t care what time it was. The phone rang and rang and rang, but no one picked it up. Where was the answering machine? He tried again and got the same response. He bit his lip; what if something had happened to her?

He called Stiles. Maybe Stiles wouldn’t want to talk to him, but he wanted to hear his voice anyway. He wanted it so bad. _This number is not in service._ His hand trembled and he dialed again. _This number is not in service._

He called Kira. If it had actually been six months, she had to be back from her training at Shiprock. It went to voicemail and the mailbox was full. He took a breath. It meant nothing, he told himself. 

He called the Sheriff at home. He knew the number by heart. _This number is not in service._ His breath caught in his throat; he couldn’t make his lungs work for a moment. He gripped the phone harder; he shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

He called Dr. Deaton. Alan had always sounded the same, but right now he sounded groggy. “Hello?”

“Oh, god, I’m sorry, Doc. I didn’t think about the time difference. I …” He was so glad to hear the veterinarian’s voice. “I’m sorry. I just … I just woke up and I don’t know what to do.”

“Scott?” There was silence on the line; Deaton must have taken a moment to regain his composure. “I cannot tell you how glad I am to hear your voice. How are you feeling?”

“I feel okay.” Scott started but then stopped; he wasn’t going to pretend. “No, I don’t feel okay. I think I’m okay physically, but I can’t reach anyone and I think this might be a hallucination or I’ve gone crazy and I don’t know what to do. It can’t be six months. It can’t be. Where is everyone?”

“Scott.” Deaton engaged his calming voice. “You need to understand that this has been difficult on everyone, but it is very early in the morning for me. We should talk, but not under these circumstances. Will you come home?”

“Yeah. I want to come home, but … yeah, I’m coming home.” He wanted to go home; he needed to go home. 

“I will tell you that your mother will be very glad to see you. When you get here, please come see me.”

“Thanks, Doc.” It felt like a great weight had fallen off his shoulders. “I will see you soon.”

He found Isaac on the second floor; he followed his scent and the chemo signals for anxiety. He had no idea why Isaac had reacted like he had. The door was shut, but after he had knocked on it twice, he heard someone moving hesitantly about inside. After a few moments, Isaac finally answered. “Come in.”

Scott decided to apologize even if he didn’t understand why he would need to do so. “Hi. I’m sorry I made you upset.” He took a few steps into the room. It looked like the room of any other senior in high school. There were band posters on the walls, but they were all French bands, so he didn’t recognize them. Over near the bed, on the nightstand, were a trio of framed photographs. The first was of the Lahey family: Isaac, Camden, Isaac’s mother and father. Isaac couldn’t have been more than five, so it must have been before things got bad. The second was … Allison. It must have been taken between the party at Derek’s and the night that Stiles had disappeared. It was a crappy, spur-of-the-moment picture. Scott bit the inside of his cheek. The last was a picture of Scott and his mom during Christmas when he was ten. It had disappeared off the wall of the house, and neither he nor his mother had thought about it. Isaac must have taken it when he left.

Isaac had actually pulled out a suitcase from under his bed and he was packing. He shrugged in response to Scott’s apology. 

“Are you okay?” Scott asked. He wasn’t going to talk about what Isaac had said before, unless Isaac wanted to do so. “I mean, I always assumed you were doing okay here, and the times when I got to talk to Chris, there was always something going on and I never asked.” He moved over to stand next to him.

“There is always something going on. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Isaac left the suitcase open and went to a dresser. 

Scott wasn’t sure why Isaac was packing, but he was also flailing around for something else to say. “I mean, it smells like, well to me, that you haven’t joined a pack over here. I may sound like a hypocrite, but being an omega is hard.” Wow. Lame.

Isaac paused with his hands full of socks. “I’m not an omega.” He put the socks in the suitcase, stuffing them where they would fit. “Unless … you don’t want me in your pack anymore.”

Scott felt his stomach drop. “I thought that you didn’t want to be pack any more when you left. I thought you … couldn’t deal with Beacon Hills anymore.”

“I couldn’t deal with that place, that didn’t mean I couldn’t deal with you.” Isaac walked over to him and stood before him. “I never wanted to leave you, but …” Isaac gulped. “I always wanted to …” 

Scott reached out to grab Isaac’s arm. He wished he had known this; it had hurt him when Isaac left. It wasn’t because he felt guilty for not saving Allison; he had cared for Isaac as well and he had let him leave without saying anything. “Of course you’re pack. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I wanted you to stay, and … I guess I took it personally when you left.”

“Well.” Isaac looked away. “Maybe I should have stayed. I knew I would go back, some day.”

Scott swallowed. “You’re coming with me?”

“Yeah. Chris has had tickets and passports ready for months. He always thought you would wake up. We can leave tomorrow morning.” Isaac looks at his suitcase. “I’m packing. I’ll get you a duffle bag for your stuff.”

“You don’t have to …” Scott began.

“Am I your beta or not?” Isaac looked at the suitcase as if he was trying to figure out how to put more things in it. He was a terrible packer, not that Scott had any room to judge.

“Yes.” Scott felt good saying that. “Yes, you are.”

“You are going to need help. I don’t think that things got miraculously better because you were gone for six months.” Isaac was focused on that suitcase like it was a math test. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I won’t be …” Scott stopped. He didn’t know if there were anyone waiting for him and he suddenly felt sick. Liam had tried to kill him, Malia had pushed him away, Kira was gone, and Lydia had been badly hurt and in the hospital. And then there was Stiles. How the fuck was he going to fix that? 

Scott employed a Stiles trick: he changed the subject. “As long as you and Stiles can get along, it should be great.”

Isaac froze in place and Scott suddenly scented a wave of anxiety filling the room. “What? If you know something, tell me.”

Isaac looked up, stricken. “Stiles and I won’t be a problem, Scott. Stiles is in prison.”


	2. O Loving Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparing for the journey back to California, Scott and Isaac deal with the consequences of past events. Scott experiences what may be some side effects of his coma. Scott comes to a decision about Stiles' predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If someone could help me with formatting, I would appreciate it. I hope what I've done so far is clear.

“He what?” choked Scott. “Why? How?”

Isaac got up and stood before him; it was a gesture he assumed was meant to calm him down. “Scott, you just woke up today. Why don’t you take it easy? These problems will be here tomorrow.”

“Isaac, tell me. Just tell me.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to take it easy unless I know.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” Scott blinked as Isaac’s response was almost surly. Scott cocked his head to one side, uncomprehendingly. 

Isaac grimaced. “Scott, he threw you to the floor in front of six witnesses and you didn’t get back up. He put you in a coma, man. According to the police, that’s felony battery.”

Scott hadn’t known that. “Come on …” He paused; he might have thought it was between them, but it had taken place in public.

“If he wanted to get away with beating the shit out of you, he should have waited until no one could see it.” Isaac continued and immediately looked like he regretted saying that, even though his eyes were blazing.

“He didn’t beat the shit out of me. It was just a fight.”

“Did you punch him back? Since even in your condition, you would have taken his head off, I’m guessing you didn’t, so that’s not a fight. It’s not a fight if only one side is throwing punches.”

Now it was Scott’s turn to feel angry; Isaac seemed to be more than okay with Stiles being in jail. “Why do you sound like you’re happy about this?”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Isaac replied. “You need to take it easy; you shouldn’t get angry.”

“Too late. You know what we’ve been through; don’t you think you should be at least a little … I don’t know, compassionate?”

“Gee, I don’t know why I wouldn’t be compassionate, Scott. Stiles was upset about his dad so he beat you up? Someone you trusted used you as a punching bag to make himself feel better? You should be glad he is in jail; at least a lizard didn’t kill him.” Isaac was not shouting but his words were harsh; he was just as angry as Scott was. “Yeah, I’m _still_ milking that.”

“It’s not the same.”

“I’m done talking about this.” Isaac swallowed. He realized he was contradicting what he had said earlier. “Please. Tomorrow. On the plane. We can talk about it. But not today. Please go and rest.”

Scott decided not to push it. He told himself that he was doing it for Isaac, but he was also doing it for himself. He had to process what this meant. He left Isaac in his room.

Wandering through the hunting lodge – he guessed it was as good a name for it as anything, but it seemed to him like a really fancy house – he realized that it was only Janelle, Isaac, and him here. He could smell faint traces of Chris, but he had been gone for a long time. It felt empty. This brought back memories of other homes and apartments, and he didn’t like those memories. He had to get out of the house, but luckily there was a garden outside. 

Scott didn’t know anything about gardening, but he did remember one time when Stiles went off on a long discussion on the difference between European and Asian garden concepts after they had stopped by the Yukimuras. He almost smiled at the memory, but he really couldn’t, not anymore.

He sat down on a stone bench amid flowering bushes of some kind. It was still early spring, so it was a bit chill, but he rested his head back, letting the sun fall on his face. He thought of Stiles.

**Scott was standing in a room he didn’t recognize. It was dark, but not too dark that he couldn’t see clearly with his enhanced vision. Light came in under a crack in the door and through the thin curtains on the single window. There was not much furniture: a bed, a single chest-of-drawers, and a desk with a chair. He was startled when he realizes the chair was bolted to the floor.**

**More details filtered in. The desk and the top of the chest-of-drawers were covered in books, folders, and assorted papers. There was also a figured covered by the blankets on the bed; obscured, it still made his heart leap. Scott realized he had been relying on his sight to take in the room; he wasn't smelling or hearing anything. That was odd, so he focused on his sense of smell and it kicked in. It confirmed his hope as to who was on the bed.**

**“Stiles,” he whispered. The figure on the bed made no reaction. Scott focused on his hearing and could hear the heartbeat and the slow breathing, in and out. At least Stiles was able to sleep.**

**“Stiles,” he said louder. He really wanted to talk to him again, wanted to explain, wanted to apologize. He realized that his voice sounded hollow to his own ears. Since Stiles would have woken up normally, he had to assume that his voice couldn’t be heard.**

**It meant that something strange was going, but it also meant that he was somehow standing in Stiles’ cell. He clutched one hand into a fist. “Maybe I’m just dreaming.” But he knew he wasn’t dreaming.**

**He didn’t understand how he could be here, see here, smell here, hear here, but not do anything else. He moved towards the desk and the table. It was too dark to read much, even with his eyes, but he could tell one of the folders had his name on it. He tried to touch it, but he couldn’t. It had the word ‘France?’ written on it.**

**He couldn’t read any more of the file, but that it was there made him smile. Stiles hadn’t given up on him. Even in this place, Stiles still cared at least a little bit what happened to him.**

**Then a chill ran down his spine. It’d been six months; they had obviously not parted on good terms. Stiles was in prison; maybe their friendship had been totally destroyed. Maybe this was a way to find him when he got out; maybe he wanted to get revenge.**

**Scott shook his head. “What the hell am I thinking?” Stiles might have beat Donovan to death with a wrench, but that was only because he was going after his father. People don’t change that much.**

**“How long did you think you could drag him into your world and have him come out unscathed?” said a voice behind him. Scott whirled around; he knew that voice, but the person to whom it belonged could not be here anymore than he could be where he was.**

**No one else was in the room with him. “Peter? Where are you?”**

**“Oh, Scott, Scott, Scott, we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about what you did to Stiles. Did you really think you could make him follow you around and he’d emerge an innocent boy? If he ended up here, you put him here.”**

**“You think I’m actually going to listen to anything you say?” He tried to sound confident; though he couldn’t resist feeling that maybe Peter had a point. Anyway, he kept turning around to locate where the Peter was. “How are you here? How are you talking to me?”**

**“That’s a good question, but have you considered the possibility that I’m not here? That I’m not talking to you?” On his third revolution, Scott saw Peter outside the window, but, impossibly, in his alpha form. “You know what happens to a werewolf in a coma, Scott, don’t you? There is a distinct possibility…” Peter’s voice was teasing. “…that you’ve gone mad.”**

“Scott? Scott?” Scott felt a hand on his shoulder; he startled at that and the sound of a voice – Isaac’s voice. He was still sitting on the stone bench in the Argent’s garden. 

“Did you fall asleep?” Isaac asked him. “Were you having a dream? Your heart was going crazy. Are you okay?” 

Scott looked up at Isaac; he thought about lying and agreeing he was having a dream, though he knew he wasn’t dreaming. On the other hand, the last thing he wanted to do was admit that he had just had either an out-of-body experience or a full-blown hallucination. “No,” he finally decided. “I just had my eyes closed for a bit.”

Isaac looked so concerned that Scott decided he wasn’t going to talk about anything upsetting for the rest of the night. He would wait until the drive to the airport or the actual ridiculously long flights to California.

The rest of the night was spent pretending. Scott talked about lacrosse, about movies, even about politics, though he found he was really far behind. One thing he realized was that Isaac was almost starving for news from home. It wasn’t like he was bored in France; he had finished the equivalent of high school with private schooling, and he had been very busy with all the other things Chris wanted to teach him. It was more an eagerness to hear about what he left behind.

Scott tried to hide his disgruntlement as they talked. It wasn’t fair of him, he knew, but part of him wanted to know why, if Isaac was so interested in what was going on in the mundane aspects of Beacon Hills, he had left in the first place.

Theoretically, he understood why. He had told himself why Isaac had left. It still didn’t make things any easier. They had finally gone to bed a little early, so they could make sure they got to the airport in time the next morning.

It was a three-hour plus drive from the hunting lodge to Nimes. Isaac had bid Janelle farewell in French. He explained that his accent was terrible, but he had managed to learn enough to hold conversations in the language.

******

Scott watched the countryside of Southern France roll by outside the ridiculously small car’s window. He felt like he should be at peace, but he wasn’t. He was afraid of what waited for him back home; he was afraid that things were even worse than he imagined. He was afraid of whatever had happened to him yesterday was exactly what Peter had said it was – that he had gone insane – and that this was some delusion. Worse still, he was worried about how weird things were with Isaac. He should be happy that Isaac seemed so concerned with not only him but with their relationship.

“What are you thinking about, Scott?” Isaac asked from the driver’s side after a particular long stretch of silence.

He kept looking out the window. “Nothing.”

Isaac sighed. “That lie was totally lame. Try again.”

Scott smiled over at him. “Well, at least part of me was thinking that it was great to see you again, but that part just got burned, so it’s not thinking that anymore.”

“Ha, ha. And what were the other parts of you thinking about?” Isaac kept looking over at him as he drove, as if trying to pick up his mood. 

“Things.” Scott really didn’t want to talk to Isaac at all; he didn’t think either of them would like where the conversation would head. 

“Look, I’m only asking because I want to help,” Isaac repeated. “I can’t make you talk, but it’s going to be a really, really long trip if we don’t talk.”

Scott looked over at him. “I said that part of me thinks it’s really great to be with you again. The other part of me wonders why it had to stop in the first place.”

“You’re asking why I left. I thought you understood why I left.”

Scott shrugged. “Maybe I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure.” He studied his hands that were folded in his lap. “I didn’t want to talk about it because I have a lot of things I could say and they all sound like I’m attacking you.”

Isaac watched the road ahead of him rather than look over at Scott. This went on for about ten minutes until he finally said: “I supposed I could take a few attacks. I mean, you’ve been sick and all.” It was a lame attempt at defusing the tension.

Scott took a deep breath. “We made a space for you in our home. I made a space for you. That didn’t mean anything?”

Isaac broke the resulting silence after a few minutes. “I … don’t know what to say.”

“I lost her, too.” The words just came out. “You were upset, so you left. I was upset to, but I couldn’t leave. Stiles, Lydia, and Kira – all of them felt so guilty. Stiles wouldn’t even look at me for a week. What do you think would have happened if I just ran away? They would have blamed themselves even more, when it wasn’t their fault. So I couldn’t leave. I had to stay; I had to be the alpha. I had to teach Malia how to shift when I didn’t even know her. I had to be the fucking alpha. I needed you.” 

“I couldn’t stay,” Isaac said quietly. 

“You know, I think I've figured out why you and Stiles don’t get along. You’re very much alike. You talk the same way. You say things like ‘I couldn’t’ when what you actually mean is ‘you didn’t want to.’ Stiles ‘couldn’t’ tell me about Donovan, but he could certainly hold it against me when I believed someone who could tell me! Why ‘couldn’t’ you stay? Was Chris holding a gun to your head?” Scott took a deep breath; his hands were trembling. “Or did you just hate me that much?”

Isaac gripped the steering wheel so hard that Scott heard the metal frame groan. Eventually, he gritted out. “Yeah, I hated you that much.”

“That’s what I thought.” This put an end to the conversation for the rest of the trip. Scott knew that Isaac had resented the idea that Allison’s last words were for him. He didn't feel guilty that she had said them to him; he’d done his part as the ‘good ex-boyfriend.’ Except for those two times he had punched Isaac – which he did feel guilty about – he hadn’t treated either of them any differently. He had made an effort to include them in the pack, to make sure that they knew he still valued their friendship, that Isaac still had a place with this family. 

No matter what Allison and Isaac had been becoming, she meant more to him than to Isaac. Of that, he was sure.

The whole conversation made things very awkward. They did speak, but they kept it short and to the point. Isaac translated the French when it was necessary. Scott was surprised that he had a passport with an actual picture; Mr. Argent was apparently an old hand about moving people across international borders, so they had a smooth trip. The organization would pick up the car and get it back to Langogne.

******

Scott hadn’t been on many airplanes in his life, and he had certainly not been on any international flights. He was fidgety and bored. He would have drank just to relax, but he couldn’t get drunk. Sleeping was out of the question; he was packed in with a hundred plus people he didn’t know. 

Somewhere over the Atlantic, Scott turned to Isaac, who had brought a book with him and was busily reading, and said, “It wasn’t abuse.” Pretty much everyone else on the plane was either asleep or watching television.

“Which is exactly what many people who are abused say,” Isaac replied, shutting the book. “I’m not claiming to be an expert; I can just talk about my own experiences. You really think that Stiles had the right to attack you like that?”

“Maybe. He blamed me for his Dad.” Scott said defensively. “I don’t think he was right, but it’s not like I don’t make mistakes.”

“Okay. Would he have attacked me like that?”

“Maybe. What’s your point?”

“Oh, I think he would attack me if I was going to hurt someone he loved, sure. But would he attack me when I walked into a room to check on his sick father? No. ‘Cause I’d rip his head off. He only attacked you because he knew you wouldn’t fight back. He knew you’d exert every ounce of your control not to attack him in kind.” Isaac lowered his voice to make sure they weren’t overheard. “Unless you think Stiles is a moron, which he isn’t, he would know better than to physically attack a werewolf like that without some sort of a weapon. He’d understand our instinctual response would be violence.”

Scott looked at the back of the seat in front of him. 

“So, he physically attacked you, counting on the fact that you wouldn’t fight back. Obviously, he didn’t know how injured you were.”

“I don’t see how that makes it abuse. Friends get angry with each other.”

“Tell me this, Scott. What was the point of the attack? Was it revenge for your refusal to protect his father?”

“I didn’t refuse to protect anyone. I didn’t even know the sheriff was in danger.”

“That’s right. There was nothing you could have done to stop the attack on the sheriff or Stiles' attack on you. The thing I learned most about all this from my father was that there was nothing I could have done to stop it – because it wasn’t about me at all.”

Isaac looked out the window. “I think I always knew that, even though I didn’t ever consciously think about it. I could have been the best son in the history of children, and it wouldn’t have made the slightest difference. That’s why it was abuse; because it wasn’t a disagreement. He beat me to feel better, just like Stiles did to you.”

“You don’t understand; it wasn’t just that. He had plenty of reason to be angry with me.”

Isaac turned back to him. “And you didn’t have any reason to be angry with him? You didn’t have any reason at all? You had no reason to throw him up against a wall?”

Scott set his jaw. “So, you are saying if I had punched him back it would have been better?”

“No. I’m saying that you knew better. You knew that being upset doesn’t give you the right to hurt people. Isn’t that what your whole fucking life’s been about? I’m also saying that he did, too.”

“So, I should be happy he’s in jail? That’s kind of gross, Isaac.”

“No. You shouldn’t be happy he’s in jail. You shouldn’t feel guilty about it _either_. You didn’t make him attack you. He shouldn’t have attacked you. He’s paying the price for attacking you. End of story.”

Scott shifted in his seat. “It still wasn’t abuse.”

“If you say so.”

Scott sulked for a few moments. “Are we going to be angry with each other the whole trip? Because, dude, that’s going to suck.”

Isaac sighed. “I’m not angry with you. Not anymore. I don’t hate you. You think I’d come back to Beacon Hills with you if I hated you?”

“No.” Scott didn’t think he would. 

“Glad we had this talk. I’m going to try to sleep now.” 

True to his word, Isaac was asleep within minutes. Scott wasn’t angry with Isaac, even though he wasn’t going to accept the beta’s argument completely. His relationship with Stiles had always been unique to them; it wasn’t like he didn’t understand what Stiles was like. He wasn’t angry with Stiles over Donovan; he simple didn’t know what to do about it. He couldn’t let Stiles do stuff like that. He was disappointed that Stiles tried to make it his fault, but it wasn’t Scott hadn’t been aware that deflection and aggressive attacks weren’t part of Stile’s established tactics. He realized he was angry about being attacked in the hospital; he’d lost six months, but he wasn’t going to be angry for long. Stiles was losing a hell of a lot more. 

Scott determined that whatever it took, he was going to get Stiles out of that prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always bugged me that there had Isaac had just vanished off the show with no real explanation.


	3. O Any Thing, Of Nothing First Created

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott arrives back in California. While some things have changed for the better, most have not. More discoveries leave him reeling.

Scott had heard of jet lag, but he didn’t feel anything like it when they arrived in San Francisco. He wondered if he had ‘banked up’ sleeping hours for the last six months. He was pretty sure it didn’t work like that but he didn’t feel tired at all. Maybe it was that ever since he had been bitten, his sleeping schedule had been pretty much fucked up anyway and he was used to it. 

Isaac had actually slept far more than he did on the plane. Isaac had always had the ability to sleep anywhere. Scott thought it was pretty cool until his mother had told him that people who exist for long periods of time in stressful situations can learn to fall asleep even if they’re upset. Still, he was a little more out of it than Scott was when they got off the plane.

“It’s weird,” Scott explained as they left the plane. It was definitely spring. It had been fall when he had been here last. “I don’t remember leaving. Everything’s jumbled.” 

“You must have looked pretty scary to the other passengers; there’s always a patient in those movies where the plane crashes. Chris flew you first class with a nurse,” Isaac teased. 

“Very funny.” Scott punched him in the shoulder. “Why did he do that?” At Isaac’s questioning grunt, he went on. “Fly me to Chateau Argent.” He was never getting over that. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but France is a long way away.”

Isaac glanced over at him and then shrugged. “I think that it’s best that he tell you. You’ll see him in a few minutes.” 

Scott frowned as suddenly things were weird again. Isaac had been doing the ‘ask Chris’ thing a lot. Did he think that he would hold it against him if he kept giving him bad news? He didn’t press the issue though.

Going through the airport, he heard the sound of her voice long before he saw her; he caught her scent – the scent that had always meant and would always mean ‘home' – before he saw her. In his mind, he’d only been gone a few days, but he had to remind himself that he’d actually been gone six months. He had missed his birthday; he had missed Christmas; he had missed her birthday. If Scott had learned one thing over the last year – no, now it was two years - it was that you had to take every day as if it was going to be your last. So it wasn’t a big deal that he had missed those days; it was the biggest deal.

His mother was standing near the baggage carousel, scanning the arriving passengers for him. Chris Argent was standing next to her; he was more relaxed, willing to be patient as a good hunter should. Scott noticed immediately that they were standing awfully close to each other. 

Before he could think about that any more, she saw him and nearly sprinted to where he was, wrapping him up in a hug. While he had never ever doubted how much his mother loved him, he seldom received hugs of this intensity. He felt warm and embarrassed and just a little bit sad. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Mom,” he kept repeating.

“Young man, don’t you ever do anything like that again.” She was scolding him but he knew the message behind the words.

Scott just hugged her back instead of answering immediately. He thought about promising to her that it would never happen again, but he wouldn’t. He had stopped making promises he couldn’t be sure he’d be able to keep. He did say: “I’m sorry for scaring you like that.”

Melissa looked him in the eyes; hers were burning. “In the future, you are going to take your time recovering, or I will tie you to the bed. Understood?”

“Yes, Mom.” He looked at Isaac and Chris. They were both sharing a small smile between them. He felt bashful now. “Let’s go home.”

That seemed to have been the wrong thing to say. His mother’s smile froze, Chris got that look on his face where he was about to make you confront hard truths, and Isaac immediately disappeared to get the luggage. “There’s a lot going on, sweetheart. We’ll talk in the car.”

The mood was more subdued as they got into the car. Chris was driving – it was his SUV, so Scott automatically got into the rear passenger side. Isaac and Chris looked at him oddly for just a moment, but it was just a reflex. Adults got to sit in the front; he wouldn’t make his mom sit behind him.

Scott waited until they were actually on the highway to start. Before they reach the interstate it was just small talk that desperately wanted to remain small. Chris was being stoic; of them all, he was the only one trained for this type of life. His mother was being supportive and Isaac was being … well, Isaac. Scott could never quite tell if Isaac was mad at him or desperately wanted him to say that Scott wasn’t mad at him. The irony of this was that Scott wasn’t sure if he was mad at Isaac or not. The last few days had been … tempestuous.

“I think,” Scott said slowly, “that you guys don’t want to overwhelm me. I know you don’t, but I have to know.”

“We’d just like to make sure you’re completely recovered, honey,” said his mother as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.

“I know, Mom, but … not knowing is beginning to feel ...” He swallowed. “It’s beginning to feel like waiting for college acceptance letters.” Suddenly, he realized what he had just said. “Oh, fuck …”

“Language,” his mother said immediately. “That’s another topic of discussion.”

Chris decides to get the discussion back on track. “Your mother is right; you may seem fine but you shouldn’t push yourself too hard. And you are right; you need to know what is going on. So why don’t you ask us what you want to know about and if it seems to be getting too much, we’ll stop.”

Isaac was just watching him from the other seat, eyes never leaving his face. 

“Okay.” Scott took a deep breathe. “You took me to France. Why’d you take me to France?”

“For your protection,” Chris Argent said. “We think that Theo has Liam. As long as he does, there is every reason to think he’ll try to get your power through him.”

It was the type of no-nonsense answer that was Chris’s signature approach. Theo was resourceful and determined; if Scott was in any sort of hospital in California, Theo could eventually have found out where. They couldn’t have kept him at home, because Theo could ignore the mountain ash defense, even break it to allow others through. But Theo could not have possibly known about a hunting lodge in Europe, and even if he did, he had enough self-preservation to think twice about attacking the Argent’s headquarters.

They were right about the stress though. “What do you mean that he _has_ Liam?” The idea sent his pulse rate soaring, so much that his eyes flashed and his claws came out. He hadn’t thought about Liam before because the last time they were together was, well, when his beta was trying to kill him in the library. It didn’t matter, though, because there was a part of him that thought that he should be protecting Liam. And there was another part of him that thought that Liam was _his_ , thought how dare Theo take something of _his_. Then a little voice that sounded like Peter told him: **Because you let him**.

Scott felt Isaac take his hand. He didn’t think about why Isaac was taking his hand, but it calmed him. It was a gesture of comfort and he squeezed it back without thinking.

Chris goes on in his hunter-debriefing voice: “Liam disappeared three days after you fell into a coma.” Scott liked the way he said that, because it avoided the whole topic of why he was in a coma. “We don’t know if he went with Theo willingly or not.”

“He didn’t,” Scott protested. “The only reason he tried to kill me was Theo convincing him that the bite was the only way to save Hayden. He’s young, younger than me, and he was still having problems with the full moon.”

Suddenly, the three other people in the car radiated equal measures of fear and disapproval. Scott believed they thought that he’s being naïve again. They thought that he was trusting Liam when he shouldn’t. 

He grumbled. “They’re not excuses; they’re reasons. I know him better than you do.” If he had to have this argument again about trusting people, he would.

His mother turned to look at him. “Hayden’s alive.” She watched him process that bombshell. “Theo brought dead chimeras back to form a pack. Now you tell me if this sounds like a possibility to you. I saw how much Liam was in love with her and you did too.” 

And so did Theo, Scott thought to himself.

“Now, Liam learns that she’s back and that you are in the hospital. He feels guilty about you and he is happy to have Hayden back. Are you telling me Theo couldn’t use that against him?”

The car was silent. 

“He could. Especially since I wasn’t here …”

There were three virtually simultaneous sighs in the car. Great, Scott thought, this is how it is going to be.

“Honey, this is why none of us want to tell you anything. You can’t blame yourself for what happened while you were gone. So, can you just try? For me?”

“Fine. So no one has seen him for six months?” Scott tried to focus back on what was important.

“There have been reports, but as far as official story goes, he’s a missing person.” Chris said.

Isaac squeezed his hand and said: “Milk cartons and everything.”

“Not funny,” Scott replied. But he didn’t draw his hand away. He felt better. “Then that’s number two.”

His mother looked back over his shoulder. “To-do list?”

“To-do list.” It was something that she had made him do sometimes when things got so overwhelming. Take one step at a time.

“What’s number one?” Chris Argent asked. Melissa and Isaac already know what’s number one. Scott didn’t answer; he didn’t want to get into that fight with Isaac again. 

The decision was taken out of his hands as so much had been recently. “He knows about Stiles,” Isaac admitted. He gripped his hand tighter as if he thought Scott was going to rip it right out of it. Scott didn’t want to. 

“I do. Can you tell me more about what happened?” He directed this at Chris Argent, who would tell him what he needed, he thought, without hiding things or judging. “Like where he is?”

“He’s in the Beacon County Jail. He was originally charged with Felony Battery as an adult.” Chris listed it off and both Isaac and Melissa pointedly didn’t look at Scott. “He took a plea down to Misdemeanor Battery as an adult. It’s a one-year sentence.” 

Scott made a noise – an entire goddamn year for a fight. “How was his dad okay with this? Mom, why were you okay with this?”

No one said anything until Chris broke the silence, speaking not to him but to his mother. “We knew this was going to be difficult. We knew it. He has to know.”

His mother nodded to Chris and turned around to look at him. “Scott, the sheriff didn’t make it. He passed away a few days after your incident.”

“What? But you said he was fine! I heard you!” This was horrible. This was beyond horrible; it was unbelievable. The sheriff couldn’t have died.

“There were complications.” She bit her lip. “He was poisoned with something and … we couldn’t figure out a way to treat him.”

Scott put his head in his free hand. Stiles was an orphan now. He wasn’t going to say it out loud, because they would be all over him for it, but he knew that they’d never really be friends again. Stiles would blame him for his father dying. He tried to fight off the wave of nausea – he was adrift. This couldn’t be fixed; it couldn’t.

“Great,” he gritted out. “Is there anyone else dead or missing that I should know about?”

No one else in the car spoke. No one would look at him. Oh God, Scott thought, there’s more. Who else had died? 

Scott knew who he could trust to speak the hard truth to him. “Chris, tell me.”

Chris did not turn to look at him. “Scott, as far as we can tell, everyone in your pack is gone.” 

Sound roared through Scott’s ears. It was hard to think about the words that had just been said to him. It was hard to think about anything. He let his head fall back onto the seat behind him.

**He was crouching in the darkness. Again, he didn’t know how he got here. Last time this happened, he … he had a vision, he supposed. He sharpened his senses as he did before and the stench assaulted his nose: rotten food, filth and blood. It overwhelmed him, but that wasn’t the only thing. He could see a figure on the floor, he could hear his breathing and he knew his scent.**

**“Liam!” he called out, though he knew that if it was like last time, his beta wouldn’t hear it. “Liam!”**

**There was no immediate response. He crawled on his hands and knees across the floor towards the young man. He could smell the trash but he couldn’t actually feel it; the floor pushed up against him but he couldn’t tell its texture. He didn’t care though. Scott wanted to see if he was okay. That was stupid. He knew he couldn’t possibly be okay in this pit, wherever it was. He wanted to see how bad it was.**

**Liam’s hair was longer than he usually kept it and he was filthy. Scott growled automatically; he had been right. Theo had captured him had kept him in this hole. He growled again when he saw the chains leading to cuffs around his wrist and a collar around his neck. Like an animal.**

**Liam stirred. Was it coincidence? Was it instinct? He didn’t know. He whispered again. “Liam. Liam, it’s me. Wake up.”**

**Liam suddenly raised his head and shifted in one smooth motion. Scott was so startled that he nearly leaped backward. Liam’s eyes were glowing a bright blue. _His eyes were blue._ **

**“Oh, Scott,” Peter’s sickly-sweet voice whispered suddenly from behind him. “Look what you’ve gone and done now.”**

Scott surged up and shouted “No!” This was before he realized he was shouting at his own mother. He blinked at her and then settled back down. The SUV had pulled over on the side of the highway and the back door was open. His mother must have been checking on him. Thank God he didn’t hit her or snap at her. 

“Honey,” she said slowly. “I just need to finish checking your vitals, okay?” In response to his nod of acceptance, she continued what you were doing. “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”

Scott looked down. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I don’t know what it was about.” He didn’t want to say anything about what he saw. He knew what Peter had told him about him being insane. 

“You passed out.” She said it but he could hear her heart beat go up. She didn’t believe what she was saying. “Has this happened before?”

“Yes.” He felt bad not telling her everything. Scott didn’t think she was lying to him, but she may have been lying to herself. “Just once, on the day I woke up.”

“Can you tell me …” She bit her lip. “Can you tell me anything that was similar about the two events?”

“Yeah. It was right after Isaac told me about Stiles.” He looked down at his feet. “We had a fight.”

“Two instances aren’t enough to draw any conclusions,” she said. “But if it happens again, you need to tell me. Do you understand?”

Scott nodded. “I’m sorry for worrying you. It’s just … everything is just a lot right now.”

She kissed him on the forehead. “We can get back on the road. But no more talking about stressful things until we get to the house.” She turned and waves to Isaac and Chris. They had been off a bit along the side of the road. Maybe they were talking. Scott hadn’t been trying to listen in.

“You okay?” Isaac asked him as they were driving away. 

Scott didn’t answer because he wasn’t okay. He looked over at him and tried to evade it. “It’s been a rough few days. There was bound to be some side effects.” 

“Sure,” Isaac said, but he looked and smelled either worried or guilty. “Sure, there’d have to be.” 

They drove to Beacon County. Scott noticed that Chris was only taking the back roads and not heading toward the town proper. In fact, he realized he actually drove down the same road twice. He looked over at Isaac who shrugged. His mother didn’t seem disturbed at all. 

The third time they drove down the same road, Chris pulled off into a driveway that was almost completely obscured by trees and bushes. “We were alone on the road. You two have to understand,” Chris said to him and Isaac, "that we need to make sure this place is completely safe, so I want you to follow the same procedure that I just followed. Before coming or going, make sure there is no one else on the road.”

Scott and Isaac nodded back. The drive was a dirt road. It looked like it had barely been used, like something farmers would use to work their back acres. At the end of the drive, so far back it could not possibly be seen was a log house. It was huge. 

“Is this one of your homes, Mr. Argent?” Scott asked. 

“No. It’s where we’re staying for a while, until things get back under control.”

They piled out of the cars and headed up to the house. Scott liked the place, though he realized that all the years he had lived in Beacon Hills, he had never been out here. “Whose place is this?”

Alan Deaton came out of the front door. “It would be my house, Scott.” He walked right over to him and gave him a hug. “I’ve missed you.” 

Scott responded. “I’m so glad you’re safe. I know it’s been a while, but where’d you go?”

“Let’s get you inside and settled, before we start talking about this. It is almost time for dinner. Everyone has many stories to tell.” He stepped back and looked over at Chris. “I would like to ask you to speak to your father. I may be known for patience, but I would like my privacy respected. He attempted to poke around in my storeroom again.” 

“I will speak to him.” Chris looked like he was just told he needed an emergency colonoscopy.

“Gerard is here?” Scott demanded. “He’s staying here?”

Alan looked chagrined. “Unfortunately, yes, for this is the only place we can all stay safely. It’s the only place still hidden from the Beast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I always saw Deaton's never-seen home to look like this. http://www.sierraloghomes.com/floor-plans/commanche#photos


	4. O Heavy Lightness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott tries to sleep after learning what has happened to his pack while he was in France. Isaac visits him in the middle of the night, and in the morning, Isaac has a run in with Gerard Argent.

Scott stared at the ceiling in his bedroom. It was so odd that he knew there were other people in the house, but he couldn’t hear them. He couldn’t hear their heartbeats or their breathing or anything. Given that this was Alan’s home, there was probably something in the walls that prevented him from eavesdropping. 

It was surprisingly peaceful, but it wouldn’t help him sleep tonight. While he studied the ceiling and counted the beams again and again, his mind was going over the list he was making. There was so much to do, and he knew – he knew in his heart where it counted – that he wouldn’t be able to accomplish all that he set out to do. This was part of what was keeping him awake.

On the car ride here, he had mentioned to the others that he was going to create a to-do list, as his mother had taught him. It was a simple exercise, but she swore it had benefits even given its lack of complexity. When you felt overwhelmed, she explained, making a list of all the things that you had to do helped you focus on what was actually important. 

The first person on his list was Stiles. Aside from the fact that he was the only member of his pack whose location he actually knew, Scott had always and would always place him first. It wasn’t just nostalgia; it was necessity. He wondered if this was fair to Kira, but that was a thought for another day.

Tomorrow he had arranged a visit to both the prosecutor and the judge in Stiles’ case, over the objection of Isaac and Chris. He knew it was a long shot, but he also knew that input from the victim was part of California’s Victim’s Bill of Rights. Usually, it was meant to allow the victim to try to stop a convict from being released early, but he hoped he could use it to get Stiles released. He had no idea what to do after that, how to repair the gulf between them, but he would go see him anyway. He couldn’t imagine it would be fun for either of them.

The next person on his list was Lydia. It might have been selfish to look for her next, but he knew that her abilities – her intelligence – would probably be key to finding the rest of the pack. He couldn’t be sure that he’d be able to get Stiles out of prison and even if he did he couldn’t sure he would be able to get his help. He knew that Lydia would help him even if she was mad at him. And that was also another reason he made her next: she deserved it. She had come so far from the Queen of Beacon Hills High, and he certainly wasn’t going to exclude her again or neglect her.

So that meant he was going to have to dig around in the ruins of Eichen House. According to what he had learned, Lydia had been there when the whole building had mysteriously collapsed, killing over a hundred patients and staff. It had been all over the newspapers for a week or so while he lay insensate in France. He had listened in horror as Chris had told him the story he had gleaned from the survivors. They had heard a piercing scream right before the building went down. Hope remained, for the rescuers hadn’t found her body. Scott promised himself that he was going to act as if she was alive until he actually saw her body. He _would_ find her. He only had two clues so far. First, there was that Meredith had miraculously survived; afterwards, she had been transferred to another hospital farther south. Second, Jordan’s personal car had been found outside the wreckage. He was missing, too, and he knew that Lydia had told him of a connection between them.

Liam would be next, because Liam had to be next, but he would try to wait until after either he got Stiles or Lydia back because he would need their help if his vision proved to be real. He couldn’t just run off and track down Theo so he could Liam back without some sort of idea of what to do next. It would probably be pretty satisfying to kick the crap out of Theo, but that wasn’t his goal. No matter what anyone else said, Liam was and always would be his responsibility, so if the vision turn out to be real – and he really wanted to prove to himself most of all that it wasn’t – he had to find a way to fix it. Scott imagined Liam being trapped with that burden for months and then he imagined him being rescued and having to face even more consequences; Scott couldn’t accept that. While no one had seen Theo or Liam for months, several of the chimera had been seen. He would follow that lead when the time came.

Speaking of vanished people, it turned out that Mason was also missing. Two weeks after Liam disappeared he simply vanished. Mason had been frantic to find Liam, and he had never given up. Scott just hoped that Mason hadn’t fallen afoul of Theo and wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. He didn’t deserve that. He was pack and that meant Scott would find him. 

He was the least worried about Malia. Alan had told him how Braeden, Theo and she had come after the Desert Wolf. Theo had betrayed them as Theo always did, but they had managed to rescue Deaton. He’d always be grateful for that. Since they had gotten away, he was assuming that she was with Braeden and Derek, hiding from or hunting for her mother. She would be safe there; he knew they would take care of her. When things were calmer, he’d go and see her.

Finally, he had learned about what happened to Kira by talking to Ken. Supposedly, she had failed the Skinwalker’s test and was trapped with them. Accepting that she needed to remain there or face further danger from her own fox, her parents had moved back to New York. He had heard Noshiko in the background telling Ken to tell him that it was best if he left her alone. Scott had the feeling that Noshiko would never forgive him for being the reason they stayed in Beacon Hills. If they hadn’t stayed, the kitsune wouldn’t have fallen prey to the Doctors. She wouldn’t be essentially imprisoned by the Skinwalkers for her own good. 

He had goals. He had plans. He had things he can do, and the only thing he needed to do was wait until tomorrow morning. He should sleep, rest while he could and recover the way his mom and everyone wanted him to recover. But he just could not sleep. 

The ceiling hanging above him offered no answers. His agitation kept growing, boiling out of him like a pot of water left too long on the stove. He wanted to pace. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run outside and howl at the moon like a big old cliché. 

The clock flashed 1:45 a.m. at him as a reproach. He grabbed the covers of the bed, ready to throw them off and just go, when there was a knock on the door. 

Scott got up, pulled a shirt on over his sleep pants, and opened the door. It was Isaac, who should have been asleep next door. He was wearing boxers and a t-shirt, and he was blinking sleepily. “Hey. You okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Scott scratched at the back of his head. The words just came out of his mouth and he knew they were a lie and it looked like Isaac knew it was a lie. “I’m sorry, but no, not really. Did I wake you up? I didn’t think anyone could hear me.”

“I didn’t actually hear anything; I just kind of felt that you were upset.” Isaac might have blushed just a little. “Derek talked about something like that before.”

“Come in,” Scott opened the door all the way and then closed it behind them both with a firm click. “What did Derek say?”

Isaac came in and sat down on the bed. “Sometimes, before everything went to hell, he would talk to us about how he saw being a pack. He told us that before the fire, his family – his pack – could sometimes sense each other when they became really upset. It was like, intuition. He told us that in time, we could feel that way about him and each other.” Isaac looked sad at the memory. “We never had the time.”

“You sensed I was upset?” Scott asked. Now it was his turn to blush so he looked away. “Well, that’s … what does that mean?” He stumbled over his words. It was good to know that he hadn’t suddenly got smooth while he was asleep, he thought sarcastically.

“I guess it means we’ve got a strong pack bond?” Isaac shrugged. Scott half-sat, half-fell back down onto the bed. Talking about these things was always so awkward. He would have thought that by now, he’d have it mastered.

“So what’s got you upset tonight?” Isaac looked down on him.

“Everything!” Scott sighed. “Things before I went under were so bad, so there is all of that, and now there is all this new … shit on top of it.”

“Wow. You’re cussing; that is serious.” Isaac managed a smirky grin. “Wanna shout about it? Tear something up?”

“I shouldn’t. What good will it do?” 

“It’ll be good for you, Scott. Bottling everything up doesn’t make it go away. It just ends up getting in the way, like not sleeping. You gotta let some of it out sometime.” Isaac scoots over on the bed. “Tell me who you hate the most.”

“What?” Scott looked at him. “How will that help?” 

“Not everything has to help. Some things you just have to do.” Isaac smirked. “You’re taking this alpha leadership thing way too far. You don’t hate Theo? You don’t hate Peter?”

Scott scooted farther back onto the bed so he was lying down. “Do I have to choose one? I suppose that I hate Theo the most. I mean, shouldn’t I? You know what he did. But I … don’t think about it. Just like I don’t think about hating Peter.”

Isaac copied his movements so he was lying down next to him. “I don’t think anybody could blame you for hating them. They could hold a contest to see who screwed your life up the most.”

“Gee, thanks.” Scott chuckled. He was actually feeling a lot better with Isaac here, even though the conversation was morbid. 

“So why don’t you think about it? Derek always told me he always wondered why you tolerated Peter. He said it was like you pretended he was a different person.” Isaac laughed. “He was surprised that you didn’t want to kill him every time you saw him.”

“I did want to kill him every time I saw him.” Scott confessed, suddenly serious. “You don’t know how much I wanted to kill him, how much that part of me wanted to just to dig my fingers into his lungs and shred them so he’d shut up.” Isaac was quiet at those words. “I didn’t kill him not because I had any sympathy for him or any gratitude, I didn’t kill him because that’s, in a sick way, what he wanted. When Derek bit you, he wanted a pack to make him stronger, but he chose you particularly because he thought it would help you. I was pretty against the whole werewolf thing then, but even though I think Derek made some terrible decisions, he really thought that you’d be better off being like him.”

Scott held up his hand and studied it in the dark. “But Peter, he wanted a soldier. He wanted a dumb killer. He can talk all he wants about being out of his mind but he wanted a weapon to use against the Argents. He didn’t care who I was or what I wanted. If it hadn’t been for Stiles or Allison or even Derek, he might have gotten one. If that had happened, I might even still be alive at this point, but I wouldn’t be me. He’d have killed who I was. No one should be able to do that to someone else.”

Isaac watched with large eyes from across the bed. 

“I didn’t want to kill anybody because it was wrong, but I also didn’t want to kill anybody because that’s what Peter wanted. I didn’t know anything about that True Alpha stuff back then; all I knew is that if let myself hate him, if I kept thinking about how much I hated him, I’d do it. He’d have won. So I stopped hating.”

“Wow.” Isaac laughed. “I never really thought about how different it would be if you weren’t asked. You make it sound very complicated. So you wouldn’t even kill Theo?”

Scott closed his eyes. “I would certainly god-damn well want to kill Theo, but I’d only do it if I had to.” He wasn’t firm on that. If his vision is true, it would probably take all his self-control not to kill the first chimera. “I don’t really know anything about him; everything he told me was probably a lie. I didn’t even realize he was a chimera until it was too late.”

“What does it matter what you know about him? He tried to kill you!” Isaac exclaimed. 

Scott kept his eyes closed. “I tried to kill Stiles, once, you know that? I tried to kill Allison and Jackson. I’m lucky that I didn’t. And then, as things happened, I learned about Deucalion, about Jennifer Blake, about Matt, and even about Peter. Yeah, they were all bad guys. Yeah, they all had to be stopped. They all had reasons to do what they did – even fucking Gerard – and maybe some were lame and stupid, but there were reasons. What if Theo was made to do exactly what he did; what if the Doctors had brainwashed him or were blackmailing him? I don’t really know anything about Theo except he knew me in fourth grade, the Dread Doctors experimented on him, and he wanted to take my power and my pack. Yeah, I’m gonna be angry. But I’m not going to kill him for it.”

“No wonder you’re all tense,” Isaac punched him in the shoulder playfully. “Don’t you ever let go?”

“Yes, but I shouldn’t. I’m the alpha. You know the last time I let go?” Scott shook his head. “I drove my claws into an innocent chimera’s neck. I was so desperate to find Liam and Hayden that I did something I had only done once before. I could have paralyzed him. I could have killed him. Did it all turn out okay? Yes. Did that make it all right? No.” 

Isaac lay in the dark thinking about something as Scott listened to him breathe. He was feeling much better, actually. Maybe he could sleep now that he had been able just to talk, just to share something with someone. 

Finally, Isaac said to him. “I kinda miss the you that never had any idea what you were doing.” 

“If you want to know a secret, I miss him too.” Scott sighed; he wanted to change the subject, as he was feeling so much better. “But there are compensations that go along with all this responsibility.”

“And what would those be?” 

“I get to be a tyrant, so I get to tell all my betas what to do!” Scott joked. “And I guess I’m still the hot girl.”

“Yes, you are.” Isaac leaned over and nudged him with his shoulder. “So, tell me, Alpha, what do you want me to do?”

“Stay. Help me. Other than that, do whatever it is you want to do.” Scott smiled. Even though they had had a few fights, Isaac being back was one of the best things he could imagine happening.

He had not imagined Isaac rolling over and kissing him. He did not startle and he certainly didn’t push him away, but there was the smallest surge of anxiety. Scott accepted the kiss; it was gentle. It wasn’t a demand and it wasn’t an even an invitation. It was a statement, whispered in the dark. 

Isaac drew back and waited for his reaction. Scott smiled up at him, but he didn’t kiss him back. He didn’t know if he wanted to. He didn’t know if he should. But he didn’t want to say that he didn’t want to kiss him back. 

“Let’s go to sleep. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.” When Isaac went to get up, possibly to head back to his room, Scott caught his wrist. “You don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.” It was all he could offer that night. They went to sleep.

Scott stirred when Isaac left him in the morning. Dawn was creeping in under the curtains, so he assumed that Isaac was going back to his room to get ready for the day or going to the bathroom. He was still comfortable and tired so he simply grunted and rolled over. Isaac crept out of the room, trying to move quietly so as to not wake him up. He didn’t quite close the door all the way, perhaps afraid that the click of the door would be the one thing that would wake him up. It was cute.

What happened next was not so cute. Scott could hear it though – it seemed the room had to be completely sealed to block his hearing. 

“Isn’t that precious,” spat Gerard Argent, sounding like it was anything but precious. He must have come across Isaac sneaking out of his room in boxers and a t-shirt. “I’ve always been taught that your kind has a stronger libido than us but you really can’t keep your hands off each other, can you?”

“Why are you here?” responded Isaac in the most sarcastic whisper he could manage. “Why are you even still alive?”

“Right now, I’m having my coffee, and I am alive because it’ll take more than one of you to kill me.” Gerard didn’t seem to care what volume he spoke at. “Unless you meant here at all. My son, while I might question his decisions concerning his personal life …”

“Doesn’t it gall you that the way things are going you might get an alpha for a grandson?” Scott bit the inside of his lip at Isaac’s snark. 

Gerard was undeterred. “… or his choice in apprentices, he understands that in order to defeat the Beast he’s going to need all the help he can get. No one in this house may like me, but he understands that some victories are more important than feelings. That’s called leadership.”

“I thought the women were leaders in your family?” Isaac shot back.

“They are. But we seem to have run completely dry.” 

Scott heard the claws spring from Isaac’s hands and the soft growl. He readied himself to get up and intervene. 

“Put those away, boy. You have more control than that.” Gerard relished his victory; he always did. “But if you want to talk more about feelings, how do you think Scott will feel when he finds out what you and my son have been keeping from him?” 

Scott heard the intake of Isaac’s breath. A minute must have passed. “He’s got a lot on his plate right now. You aren’t going to tell him.”

“As much as it would make me smile, I know what’s important here. So, why don’t you go do whatever it was you were going to do and let an old man finish his coffee.” 

Scott felt like he should get up immediately and talk to Isaac about what he had overheard. But both Isaac and Gerard – though it made him sick – were right. There were more important things to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was monstrously difficult. Please give feedback.
> 
> I suspect that when matching this work to the show's timeline, Peter has probably been erased from reality. I have no idea how that works, so I've chosen to eliminate it.


	5. Serious Vanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott starts the process of trying to repair things with Stiles, and as a result has a run in with his father. Isaac explains exactly what he has been doing.

Scott came out of the bland one-story office building which housed the County Prosecutor’s office and into the sunshine of a spring morning. He took a deep breath to calm himself, searching for his anchor. Then another breath. Then another breath. He was trying to keep his heart rate low, because not only did he want to wolf out in downtown in the middle of the day, but also because the last thing he needed right now was to pass out again and frighten his mother if she heard about it. Finally, he felt that he had gotten himself under control.

Isaac emerged from the SUV, parked in the same spot on the side of the street. Isaac must have waited there during the entire time he was inside. “Not a good meeting, I take it?”

“Is this another pack bond thing?” Scott snapped in irritation and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. No, there was just this look on your face you usually reserve for darachs and/or Peter. I take it that the prosecutor wouldn’t budge?”

Scott closed his eyes rather than answer him right away. Part of him wanted to tell Isaac it was none of his goddamn business, but he knew it was only an impulse due to the rage and embarrassment warring inside him. He squeezed both his hands and eyes shut as a spike of fury arose, but then he forced himself to open both of them and look at Isaac. He had promised himself he would run a better pack, and that meant communication had to be a priority.

“No, the prosecutor is fine with my request. The problem is why they pursued those bullshit charges and that ridiculous sentence in the first place.” He spat out the words. “My dad. He must have fucking leapt at any excuse to get at Stiles.”

“Oh.” Isaac grimaced; Scott knew that Isaac would be sympathetic, even though he wasn’t sympathetic towards Stiles at all. Still. “So where to now?” 

“Beacon County Jail.” He went to the door of the red SUV and pulled it open. For a second, Scott wondered if this was the same one that Mr. Argent had had when he first met him. “I want to see Stiles. I’m not really sure if it’ll calm me down before I go visit my dad. I’ve got time; he’ll probably be at the office until night.”

“Where does he live now?” Isaac circled around and got into the driver’s seat, unbidden. 

Scott scowled at nothing in particular. “My house. My old house.” He slammed the car door closed. His father was now in charge of the Beacon Hills Field Office. Apparently, the sixth incident of mass murders had finally overwhelmed even the Argent’s ability to bury things and there was now an FBI task force set up in the city. “You don’t have to go with me to the jail. You can drop me off at my house and I can get my bike.” 

“Scott, what do you think I’m going to do? Hang out at Starbucks?” Isaac laughed. “Since I managed to graduate high school early, I don’t have to worry about classes.” He pulled out into traffic. “This means that chauffeuring you around is the only thing I’ve got to look forward to doing today. My allowance sucks too much for me to do anything else.”

“You get an allowance?”

“Technically, it’s called ‘pay,’” snickered Isaac. “Officially, I am Chris’s apprentice. Room and board and the opportunity to learn are considered to be sufficient remuneration for my time.”

“He can do that?” Scott had trouble conceiving of a werewolf hunter who was actually a werewolf. “No one gets upset?”

“Uhm.” Isaac offered him a sad smile. “You remember that Allison was the Argent Matriarch? She changed the code. She could do that.”

“Yeah, I remember. Is that what it meant?” Scott felt melancholy. Any mention of Allison could bring him down but to realize that she had done something with such profound change lessened the sting.

“That’s what Chris is making it mean. Until there is a new Argent matriarch, he’s pretty much the voice of the clan. Only the fanatics listen to that old bastard.” 

“Good to know,” Scott responded. “So … you’re okay with all of it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I am. While there are always going to be Argents like Kate or Gerard, there are just as many Argents like Allison and Chris. I guess it’s just like being a werewolf; it’s not what you are, it’s what you choose to do.”

“I think that’s called life, Isaac,” Scott quipped. “So, what do you do next?”

“Well, when I’m finished, I’ll graduate. Forge the silver bullet.” He blushed at the thought. “Then, that depends on you.”

“Me?”

“I’m your Beta, but I’ll also be a hunter. As long as we’re in Beacon Hills, I don’t see much of a conflict. The Nemeton is still active.” He shrugged. “I’ll be able to perform both my duties.”

“And if I leave Beacon Hills?” Scott asked, not because he thought about doing it, but because he had just done it, even if it was unwillingly. It could happen again. He might actually, one day, you know, get into college.

“Well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” Isaac kept his face fixed on the road. 

Scott turned to look at the road and pushed thoughts of college out of his head. “One thing at a time. I have to do one thing at a time.”

The Beacon County Jail has a capacity of six hundred inmates. It had suffered from overcrowding in recent years due to the attempt by California’s penal system to reduce overcrowding in the state penitentiaries. The average population was a little under six hundred, but it spiked periodically. There was a release program for non-violent and first-time offenders in order to lighten the load on the prison. However, Scott had learned that his father had used his influence with the prosecutor’s office to prevent that for being an option for Stiles. At least that’s what the prosecutor had said. It was just something else that they needed to talk about tonight. He didn’t want to talk to his father; he wanted to talk to Stiles.

Scott sat down in the visiting room. It had nearly a dozen round tables with benches – like the kind you would find in a fast-food restaurant. He had given his name and Stiles’ name to the clerk.

After a few minutes, a guard returned. “The inmate is refusing your visit.” 

Scott nodded, because he wasn’t surprised. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. “I’ll be here for an hour, if he changes his mind.”

Stiles did not change his mind that day. Scott was sad but not surprised. Stiles could be incredibly stubborn. 

“So, how was he?” Isaac asked. He had been playing on his phone while Scott was inside. Isaac had argued against coming in with him. If they wanted to reconcile, Isaac would not had been a good addition to the discussion.

“He didn’t want to see me. I knew that might be a possibility, so I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“And if he doesn’t want to see you then?” Isaac started the SUV. 

“Then I’ll come back the day after and the day after and the day after.” Scott promised. “No matter what has happened, I’m not leaving him in there by himself. He’s just being Stiles.”

They drove back towards Beacon Hills. The jail was in a town on the south edge of the county. “So. Your house is next?” Isaac sounded like he was trying to keep the conversation light. “So you and your dad can yell at each other a lot?”

“Yes.” Scott thought a moment about putting this off. To be honest, his initial rage at his father had dwindled down to nothing. He was sure that his father’s dislike of the Stilinskis had fed into this, but he felt it was best not to jump to conclusions. This was what had gotten his whole pack in so much trouble.

“You don’t have to wait for me, Isaac. If I don’t stay there tonight, I’ll bring the bike back to Dr. Deaton’s house.”

Isaac hummed at that. “You sure?” 

“Yeah. I remember the way there, and I’ll be careful no one sees me going there. It’s a dirt bike anyway. If I have to, I’ll go across country.” Scott felt he could find his way there. Werewolf senses were good for going through the woods at night.

Eventually they pulled up in front of the McCall house. Both the porch light and the light from the living room shone out over the yard. Scott could hear the television from here. His father was home. “See you later, Isaac.”

Scott went up to the door and a wave of sadness washed over him. He’d have to knock on the door of his own house. He didn’t have a key any more. It should not have disturbed him so much, but the dislocation between what he was used to and what the world was now was thrown into stark relief. The conversation that he was going to have after the knock wasn’t going to help any.

His father came to the door, still dressed in his work clothes – rolled up sleeves, slacks, black socks. He must have come home and had dinner in front of the television. There was a moment of shocked, silent recognition and then Rafael stepped forward and wrapped Scott in a hug. It was unguarded and unstrategic—an outpouring of real emotion.

Scott couldn’t help but think to himself that if his father had acted like this more often, they never would have become estranged. 

“You’re awake.” Rafael said the words as if Scott wouldn’t know them. “Why don’t we go inside?”

Scott noticed that his father hadn’t changed the house at all. Rafael’s stuff, when it was there, was stored on top of things, to the side of things, like it was only temporary.

“You moved in,” Scott tried to make it sound like it was not an accusation.

“Yeah. Your mother started dating someone who’s the target of a resurrected mass murdering creature of the night; it wasn’t safe for her to stay here. And since, as far as anyone outside you, your mother, and your mother’s boyfriend and his family knows, I know nothing about this I can live here in relative safety.” And the good feelings are gone; his dad was jealous and disapproving of Chris Argent.

“Well, if I had had my way, you’d have never known about it.” 

“Why’s that?” His father gestures for him to sit down on the couch. “Is there a reason you think that I shouldn’t have known?”

Scott bit back the first thing he was going to say, but then he decided on a nicer approach. “We were working on our past, but … you’re also an FBI agent. I … it’s my responsibility that the government never finds out about us.”

“Us.” His father echoed. Rafael frowned. “I’m not going to say that I’m happy with what you just said.”

“It’s not about being unhappy or happy with it. It’s what it is.” Scott didn’t want to argue about it. He’d given himself enough trouble over it through the years. “Don’t bother with talking about a cure. There isn’t one. I’ve looked. And even if there was, I wouldn’t take it now.”

“You wouldn’t?” The frown remained firmly in place. “Why not?”

“Because there are people who, for some reason, rely on me, and I can’t help them if I don’t have this power. There are people who need me because of who and what I am, and I can’t give them what they need if I’m not the alpha. There are people who hate me and will try to kill me and those I care about, and I can’t protect them without being a werewolf. And there is stuff that I don’t think you know about – things that happened in the past – and if I suddenly turned my back on all of this, I’d be spitting in the face of people who lost everything. It’s too late for a cure. This is who I am now.”

Rafael looked like he was going to argue, but he didn’t. “I don’t think I’m out of line to want to know what happened in the past.”

“You’ll have to only hear it as my father. You’ll have to stop being a federal agent. You can’t do that, and I won’t tell you anything. And I’m not trying to be mean; Stiles’ dad had that problem as well. It’s not easy.”

“I don’t imagine it would be. It makes me feel even guiltier, I suppose, about the impeachment process. He was protecting you.”

“He was protecting a lot of us.” Scott responded. “You …”

“My problems with the Stilinksis predate all of this. It’s complex, but there are many reasons I didn’t like the sheriff, but I am sorry he’s dead.”

“But not sorry enough to prevent you from putting his son in jail.” There it was – the topic of the Fight of the Night.

His father looked at him from across the couch like he also knew what was coming. “I guess it was too much to hope for that we weren’t going to quarrel about this, but if we’re going to do it, we’re going to do it. No, not sorry enough to let his son get away with battery.”

“He didn’t mean to hurt me.” Scott exclaimed. “He was just angry …”

“I know he didn’t mean to hurt you, which is why he was charged with battery and not attempted murder. Scott, I may not know everything about all this stuff, but I know enough about things to know that he could have killed you. According to your mother, you were grievously injured. What did you expect me to do? Let him get away with it?”

“He wouldn’t have _gotten away with it_ ,” Scott argued back. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Rafael makes an exasperated sound. “Scott, why are you being so stubborn? He attacked you and threw you to the ground in front of five witnesses. That is definitely something wrong.”

“You don’t understand, his father was hurt.” Scott could not see a way to explain to his father how stressful a time it was without either sharing way too much information for his father to have or without breaking down.

“Did you attack Stiles’s father?” His father demanded.

“No!”

“Did you tell someone to attack Stiles’ father?” Was this an interrogation?

“No.”

“Did you know that someone was going to attack Stiles’ father and ignored it?”

“No, but …”

“I know what you were doing; your mother told me. You were trying to save a girl’s life and then you were ambushed and almost murdered in a school library. Unless I am missing something, you didn’t have anything to do with Stiles’ father getting hurt.”

Scott sighed. “Stiles was mad because I believed Theo’s story.” 

“That had nothing to do with the situation at hand. In the world we are living right now, you can’t hurt people who piss you off. It’s wrong. He used his father’s illness as an excuse to physically assault you. You see Scott, this is my point – the Stilinskis have a history of using their emotional trauma to justify anything they choose to do at any given moment. This isn’t the first time that he’s physically assaulted you in retaliation for something happening over which you had no control.”

“How the hell do you know about that?” Even his mother didn’t know about the lacrosse ball incident.

“I didn’t. I’m just good at interrogation and I know patterns. I know when someone is using someone else for their own ends.”

“He’s my best friend …”

“Tell me the truth, son.” Rafael’s voice was accusatory. “Was he still really your best friend? Was he ever?”

Scott stood up. He wasn’t going to listen to this. 

His father continued on, unrelenting. “Tell me something, Scott – do you think he was right to hit you when you were in that state? Did you think that what happened to his father gave him the right to do that to you?” 

Scott threw up his hands. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does matter. This is what I do every day. I hear story after story after story from criminals, murderers, rapists who feel their emotions give them the right to do anything they want. Let me ask you something else – that fellow who bit you, Peter Hale? I heard his whole family died in a fire; that was pretty traumatic. So he had the right to do that to you?”

“Peter Hale wasn’t my friend.” 

“Which makes it okay? You could have died Scott. You could have never woken up! All because a Stilinski put his own emotions over someone else’s well-being. And if, what people told me about how important you are here in this town, he put his emotions over everyone else’s well being. That’s why he’s in jail, and that’s why, if I have any say about it, he’ll serve his full sentence.”

“You were just being a dick about the home-release program, though. You can try to convince me all you want that this is about the law, but you blocked Stiles getting into the program.”

“I blocked it because he doesn’t have a home, Scott. Your mother was going to take him, and I don’t trust him around my family. Not after what he did to you.”

“Well, you are going to have to get used to it. Because we’ll move past this, and I’ll always trust him. I’ll get him out of there and we’ll both have our lives back.”

“And what if next time, he kills you?”

Scott stormed out of the house. “Then I’ll be dead! Again!” He slammed the front door behind him. 

Scott stopped on the front porch of the house and rolled his eyes. He had meant to get the keys to the bike from where they hung on the wall when he had arrived. But, instead, he had gotten into a fight with his dad – predictably – and had stormed out – predictably. He could go back in, but then that would ruin his dramatic exit.

He also didn’t want to give his father a chance to say anything more. He knew he couldn’t logically argue with his father’s points about the law and responsibility, but he also knew there was more to it than that. Being a friend didn’t mean letting the person get away with murder, but it also didn’t mean turning your back on them when they were at their lowest. 

Finally, he decided he’d just walk back to the house. It’s not like it would take forever, and he’d be able to run once he got outside of the city proper. It’s not like he wasn’t the strongest monster in the city – or maybe the second strongest. He’d never seen the Beast, but the reports indicated that it was terrifying. 

Still, the chance of him meeting it tonight was slim. Unless it was waiting for him outside his home. Unless it knew he was back and was just waiting to kill him. 

“Great,” Scott complained to the night. “Now I’m scaring myself.”

Which was why he nearly jumped when an SUV pulled up next to him. “Hey, hot stuff,” Isaac drawled. “Want a lift?”

“I thought I told you that you didn’t have to wait?” Even though he was surprised to see Isaac there, he didn’t really want to be alone right now and walk all the way out to the country.

“Yeah,” Isaac smirked. “I know I didn’t have to. Get in.”


	6. Mis-Shapen Chaos of Well-Seeming Forms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott finally gets a chance to talk to Stiles. It doesn't go well. Scott and Isaac travel to visit Meredith in hope of finding a clue about Lydia's fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added section separators. I wanted to try writing without them, but it just seemed confusing.

The next day, Isaac drove Scott back down to the Beacon County Jail. Again, Scott had told Isaac that it wasn’t necessary. He was sure that he would be safe traveling in the daylight, no matter what The Beast was up to. He had gotten the full story form the Argents about their connection to the Beast, so he understood now that their enemy wasn’t a mindless animal, but a cunning serial killer. Even as powerful as he had to be, it wouldn’t do for the villain to draw more attention from the mundane authorities than he already had.

Again, Isaac had insisted on being the one doing the driving. Scott wondered briefly about Isaac’s devotion. Maybe his beta missed him more than he had said; maybe it was instinctual since his alpha had been so grievously hurt.

Again, Isaac also thought it would not be good for him to come in. Scott really wished he could argue against that. Given that there had been _no one_ to visit Stiles for the last six months, he thought that Stiles might want as many people as possible to visit him. Still, he wasn’t going to force it.

Again, Scott went through the same procedures he had gone through the day before and sat down to wait. 

Again, the guard informed him that the prisoner did not want to meet him. Scott told him that he would be there for the full hour. And he did. He sat there for a full hour. 

The rest of the day he spent in a frustrating attempt to get into the ruins of Eichen House. The place was still considered a federal crime scene, even though a company was removing the rubble. Isaac and he were stealthy enough to get into the location, but not stealthy enough to do any sort of serious digging around without getting caught. Especially, since neither of them knew anything about architecture. Especially since all the public plans for Eichen House were now in federal custody as evidence; supposedly, the public plans might have fingerprints on them.

******

The third day repeated the same steps as the first two. Scott knew that Stiles would be stubborn about this, but he was going to show him he was just as stubborn.

That night was spent trying to locate Natalie Martin or even her ex-husband. They weren’t in Beacon Hills anymore and from the lack of people who knew where they were, they didn’t want to have anything to do with this place. Obviously, they thought that their daughter was dead. Scott wasn’t going to make that assumption. Ever.

******

The fourth day started out just like the first three days. Scott had actually brought something to read on his phone. The surprise was that instead of the guard returning with a message saying Stiles wouldn’t see him, Stiles himself came.

Stiles didn’t look like Scott had imagined him; maybe he was immature, but he thought that jail would change a person. But it hadn’t; Stiles looked almost exactly like that the last time he had seen him, only now he was wearing a prison jumpsuit. Stiles also had a massive scowl on his face – the type of glare that Scott had only seen a few times before - but he had expected that.

“What the hell are you doing here?” It was an accusation. Scott couldn’t tell what his supposed crime was.

“I came to see you.” Scott replied in the calmest tone he could muster. This was going to be the tough part. When he was guilty or upset or unsure of himself, Stiles would always come out swinging. Scott was guessing that in this situation, he would be experiencing all three emotions.

Stiles gritted his teeth. Instead of sitting down, he was looming over the circular table. His fists were clenched at his sides. It was such a display of aggression that the guard who was watching the interaction was a little concerned. “Why do you think I would want to see you?”

Scott looked up at him. He had a plan, but as much as he liked to say he knew his plans would work, he wasn’t very sure about this one. “Because I’m your friend, and I thought you’d like someone to visit you.”

“We’re friends?” Stiles nearly shouted. He sat down heavily, more like throwing himself into the seat. “You think we’re friends? After all this, why do you think we’d be friends? You’re the reason I am in here.” Immediately after Stiles said that, he looked suddenly ashamed that it had come out of his mouth.

“No,” Scott replied, immediately and without thinking. “You’re the reason you are in here. “ He had meant to just take Stiles’ first barrage because he knew it would be bad, but the words had just slipped out. Maybe he’d gotten tired of being accused by people of being too much of a martyr since he woke up.

Stiles glared at him. “Why are you even talking to me? I’m a murderer, remember? I nearly killed you. Who knows when I’ll kill again?” At least his sarcasm hadn’t disappeared while he was in jail. 

Scott sighed in response. “I’m talking to you because I love you. What happened isn’t going to change that.”

Stiles stared at him as if he couldn’t believe his own ears. “You don’t get to say that,” he whispered. 

Scott reached out with one hand across the table. He wasn’t going to grab Stiles, but it was an offering. It was proof; proof of what he said. He did love him, and he didn’t feel that anything that had happened could or would change that.

Stiles stood up just as aggressively as he sat down. “You don’t get to say that,” he spat. “You don’t get to say that anymore!”

Scott drew his hand back and shook his head. “You don’t get to make that decision. I am going to be here for you whether you want me to be or not.”

“I don’t want you here. I don’t want you anywhere near me.” Stiles stalked away, but not before Scott saw the tears in his eyes. “Fuck you. Don’t come back.”

Scott sat there for the rest of the hour, even though the visit had been less than five minutes. He stared at the top of the table. He had to figure out whether this was just Stiles trying to protect himself or if he really didn’t want to be friends anymore. He couldn’t imagine it, but a lot of things had happened that he couldn’t image.

Scott thought about why he had said what he did. Maybe it was the time away – maybe it was everything he had lost. Maybe he did have some sort of resentment against Stiles for what he did, but it wasn’t stronger than what he felt for him. It wasn’t stronger than how much he needed him. 

As the hour was ended, Isaac was waiting in the SUV. “Any luck?”

“Yeah. He yelled at me for five minutes and then went back to his cell. So, we’ll come back again tomorrow.” 

“How long are you going to keep doing this?” Isaac asked cautiously. “If he doesn’t want to talk to you, he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I’ll do it for as long as it takes. I’m not just doing it for him. I’m doing it for me. If you think that I would have gotten anywhere as far as I have without him, you’re wrong. I know what you think of him, but I owe him. I owe him more than you could possibly imagine. I also know him better than any of you, so I’ll tell you …” Scott took a breath. “I’m doing it because I want to do it. Isn’t that good enough? I’m sure you’ll let me know if it causes problems.” 

Isaac didn’t reply immediately. “Where to now?” 

Scott dug out his new phone to call his mother and Chris. “We’re going to visit Meredith. We spent the last two days and nights …”

“When we weren’t sitting at this jail.”

Scott scowled at him. “We’ve spent the last two days and nights wasting time trying to find Lydia on our own. We’re going to talk to Meredith.” 

******

It was a ten hour drive to where Meredith was being kept now. Isaac said he’d spring for a motel room, since they’d be arriving near midnight, and then they’d visit her first thing in the morning. Scott grumbled to himself as they drove. He had meant to go to the prison every day, but he didn’t think out the times. 

“I _am_ stupid.” This was another bad plan. If he didn’t show up the next day, Stiles might think that he had succeeded in driving him away. That would not do at all.

Isaac yawned from the driver’s seat. “Why?”

Scott didn’t feel like talking to Isaac about his plan to help Stiles, so he talked about something else that was bothering him. “I’m missing something.” 

Isaac grunted at him to go on.

“It’s like … from what you guys have talked about, Beacon Hills has entered a holding pattern. There was a month after I was hurt that was very busy and then everything has just … stopped. What’s the Beast waiting for? What’s Theo waiting for? Tonight marks a week since I woke up.” Scott shrugged. “It feels like things are happening, but I can’t point at any one thing that I know is actually happening. Do you understand?”

Isaac wrinkled up his face. “Uhm, no. It’s not like you’ve been on the six o’clock news. The Beast and Theo probably don’t know you’re here. That’s why we have time to do stuff like this.”

Scott nods. “I know I promised myself I’d put my pack first no matter what, but … what is Chris’s plan for the Beast? I’m pretty sure neither he nor his old bastard dad is going to be okay with the killer just wandering about. I didn’t ask, and maybe I should have.” 

“I know they have a plan,” said Isaac and then immediately. “Oh look, there’s a good motel.” 

Scott raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t know what the plan is or you just don’t want to tell me what the plan is? That, by the way, was the clumsiest deflection I’ve ever seen.”

“I know they have a plan, but I don’t know enough of the details to speak with any confidence. Remember, I’ve been in France.”

It was a good try, but Scott could tell that Isaac was lying. Why wouldn’t he want to share with him what the plan was? Still, he had to take first things first. He would find out after he got the pack back. 

They were both very tired after the long drive. Isaac paid for the room. It was simple but at least it was better than other motels they had stayed in. Scott lay down on the bed. He was tired, but he was also tense about the meeting with Stiles earlier that day. He kicked his shoes off. He thought about watching some television, but changed his mind. He shed his pants and shirt and got in bed.

Sleep escaped him. He tried to calm down and think of anything else but the mess his life was in right now. He tried to think of what it would be like when he had found Lydia, freed Liam, and had Kira, Malia and Stiles back. He hated the idea of doing senior year over, but maybe this time, it would be different.

Suddenly, he felt Isaac move, getting off his bed and coming over to his. The taller boy slid under the covers with him. “Your not-sleeping was keeping me awake,” he explained. 

“And this is going to make me sleep how?” Scott asked.

“Trust me.” Isaac scooted him over. “It’ll do the trick. You’ll be so busy thinking about me that you won’t think about everything keeping you up.”

Scott wondered if he should feel uncomfortable about this more than he did. To tell the truth, he didn’t really feel uncomfortable, but … Isaac had kissed him a few days ago. He rolled over to look at Isaac to tell him it probably wasn’t a good idea, but Isaac already had his eyes closed. 

“Dude, you’re totally hitting on me right now, aren’t you?” 

Isaac didn’t open his eyes. “Uh. I thought that was obvious.” He tried to play it off as if it was no big deal, but there was a little tremor in his voice that someone could barely detect.

Scott turned once more, lying on his back. Isaac's move had definitely derailed the train of thoughts that had been keeping him awake. _What the hell_ , he thought, _it couldn’t hurt_.

******

The hospital near Carlsbad where Meredith was staying now might have been a million times better than Eichen House. It was clean and bright where Echo House had been dingy and dim; it was secure without being oppressive. The staff at this place gave the appearance of caring for the patients or at least being polite enough not to show that they didn’t care. This extended even to the forcibly committed patients like Meredith. Also unlike Eichen House, rules were actually rules. It took time for visitors to comply with them, but Scott didn’t think monsters like Brunski could operate in a place like this. 

Scott knew that the now-destroyed mental hospital in Beacon Hills had had plenty of reasons for the way it operated and why it had operated for so long, but he knew it was still a terrible place. Deaton had explained that the conjuncture of telluric currents there made it ideal for keeping rogue supernatural creatures imprisoned, but there still had to be a cover story for this imprisonment. He had seen for himself the creatures that had been imprisoned there; he had insisted that Peter be imprisoned there after he had tried to kill him in Mexico. 

He also knew that the currents were responsible for the ‘echo’ that gave the place its nickname. The knot of ley lines kept supernatural energies from either easily entering or easily escaping the place. This was great for a prison and for keeping hostile entities like the Doctors out, but it also unfortunately meant that a lot of things that should have faded away never could while the building was standing. That dark energy would have bounced around the dark halls of that building forever. 

Now, it was a construction site. When he had visited it, the rubble was almost completely cleared away; the bodies were all found and buried. It was a logistical nightmare for the Beacon County authorities, who had had to deal with yet another mass murder spree – including the murder of the beloved sheriff. It was also a disaster for people like Deaton and Chris Argent, who had to expend a lot of resources to make sure that the wrong people didn’t see the wrong things in the rubble. 

Scott was so glad that Meredith had escaped the destruction of that day. Even given all the trouble she had caused, he knew her whole story. She had only wanted to help; she’d been used and manipulated in her fragile state, and turned into a killer by Peter. He knew what that felt like, and he didn’t hold it against her that she hadn’t been able to resist him while she was mentally traumatized.

It had not been difficult to arrange a visitation with this hospital. Meredith had no living family members, and the institution believed in the benefits of social interaction, so they had approved it. The day they had arrived was bright and sunny, so they were going to meet in the carefully manicured garden. It was like five times the size of the courtyard at Eichen, and while Scott could tell that there were orderlies watching the garden, no one without heightened senses could. It was peaceful.

Meredith looked better than he had ever seen her. She was still walking with a cane; she had had both legs broken in the collapse of Eichen. She looked less like a woman made of clay and ready to shatter and more like someone who was recovering. She recognized Isaac and watched him like a healthy person, not as a fragile bird startled by every sound. Scott felt guilty; maybe they should’ve gotten her out of that hellhole long before now.

She smiled at him as he sat down on the bench across from her. Isaac, who was never very comfortable around her, smiled back but didn’t say anything. 

“How are you doing?” Scott asked her, starting the conversation.

“Better. I like it here. It’s quiet.” Meredith spoke in that staccato way she had. “Eichen House was so loud.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it here better. How are your legs doing?” Even though he really came here to look for Lydia, Scott didn’t want to just demand things from her. Not only was it rude, but it also had only made things worse in the past.

“They don’t hurt anymore. They will be fine soon.” She looked at Isaac sideways but answered him. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He was prepared to be as patient as he needed to be.

Isaac offered from where he was sitting. “What happened to Eichen?” 

“Lydia smashed it with her dying scream. The doctor pushed her too hard and too fast.” She shook her head. “The building couldn’t take it.”

Isaac and Scott looked at each other. Scott suddenly felt like he was going to throw up; he rubbed at his eyes. “So, she’s dead then?”

Isaac asked quietly. “Which doctor was this?”

“No.” Meredith answered. 

Scott sighed and Isaac looked sheepish. Scott said again. “So, Lydia’s alive?”

Meredith shook her head helpfully. “No.”

Scott looked down at the ground. “I didn’t want to believe it.” Isaac put his hand on Scott’s shoulder and squeezed. 

Meredith suddenly spoke up like she forgot something. “But she’s not dead either.”

Scott looked up. “She’s not dead but she’s not alive?” He had some experience with something like that before. That meant there was hope. “Can we rescue her?” 

Meredith smiled and nodded to him. “Yes. Well, you can. Only you.”

Scott leaned forward. “Can you tell me how to do this? I’d be really happy if you could, Meredith.” He would be really happy. He could do something instead of planning to do something. That would make this so much better. 

“Sorry.” Meredith looked sad. “No. I can’t tell you how to do it. I don’t know how. Lydia does, though. You’ll have to ask her.”

Scott didn’t understand, but then he knew that Meredith was so far into the world that Banshees heard that this was the best she can do. “I don’t know how to do that, Meredith. I can’t talk to her where she is.”

“Yes.” Meredith nodded vigorously. “Yes, you can. You’ve done it before. She told me.”

Scott smiled but he was beginning to get frustrated. He knew Meredith was trying to help, but he also knew that he couldn’t push her to be clearer. She was doing the best she could. He looked over at Isaac who was thinking. 

Isaac suddenly said to her. “Do you know when Scott talked to Lydia?”

Scott suddenly shot Isaac a look. Isaac was solid and dependable, but he’d never call his beta insightful. That was an interesting question.

“When you were unconscious. In France!” She said happily. 

“Meredith … I don’t remember talking to her while I was in France. I don’t remember anything.” It was true. He didn’t remember talking to Lydia or doing anything at all while he was in a coma. “If I was able to talk to her …”

“You were. She says you just need to focus. Just focus on her.”

Scott looked around helplessly. “I am focusing on her. That’s why I’m here." He met Isaac’s eyes; the other boy shook his head. 

Meredith reached out and took him by the face with both hands. “I can help you, but it’ll hurt.” 

Scott replied immediately. “I don’t care. If it can help Lydia, do it.” 

Meredith tilted her head as she gazed into Scott’s eyes as if looking for something. Then she opened her mouth and screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered if Eichen House was one of the reasons Meredith never seemed to get any better.


	7. I Talk of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott has a strange visit with Lydia. Scott's and Isaac's relationship gets more complicated. Scott and Melissa have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major character death is revealed in this chapter. Skip to the end notes if you wish to be spoiled before reading.

**With the sound of Meredith’s scream still ringing his ears, Scott opened his eyes to find himself in the White Room. As the other two times he had been here, the same profound silence pressed down on him, making him unwilling to speak without a good reason. He didn’t understand how Meredith had got him here, but he was not complaining. The first time he had come here, he had found the Nemeton and the kidnapped parents. The second time he had come here, he had found a way to free Stiles from the Nogitsune. He could only hope that the third time would be just as beneficial.**

**“It certainly took you long enough, McCall.” Lydia’s voice rang out from right behind him. He turned around only to find Lydia seated on the Nemeton itself, looking safe and healthy. In fact, she looked fantastic, arrayed in a dress that reminded Scott of nothing more than something an elf would wear from the Lord of the Rings movies.**

**Scott smiled earnestly at her. “I am so glad to see you. You can’t imagine how glad.”**

**“No, I am pretty sure I can imagine it.” She was smiling, but she had playfully taken the tone that sophomore Lydia had used when dismissing people. In a more serious vein, she continued: “I was beginning to think you had forgotten the way to get here.”**

**Lydia frowned and then stood up. From around the edge of the stump came a dog. It was the size of the Great Dane and black as coal. That alone would have been strange enough, but its eyes glowed with fire and sparks shot out from where its claws struck the ground.**

**“I had to get to Meredith to bring me here, and she’s all the way in Carlsbad now.” He looks around. “I passed out right in the courtyard of her new hospital; I’m probably freaking Isaac out.”**

**“Meredith didn’t bring you here, Scott. You came here by yourself. You don’t remember coming here before, while you were in your coma?”**

**Scott scratched his head. “I did?” He looked behind him; he thought he had heard something behind them, but there was nothing but the endless room. “Are you okay? I was talking to Meredith and she said that you weren’t alive, but you weren’t dead.”**

**Lydia was frowning, not in irritation, but in concern. “We’ve discussed this before. You don’t remember? I will be better once you help me, Scott. Right now, I’m Between. I take it that, as usual, you are in the White Room?”**

**Scott nodded. “You’re not?” He eyed the dog, which while being very intimidating looking, hadn’t done anything else but simply appear.**

**“The White Room is your mind dealing with being connected to the superconsciousness, which is a fantastic concept that we simply have no time to discuss today. It touches every other mind, including mine, but my living body is not actually here, just as yours isn’t. I am in the Between, the place between life and death. When I brought Eichen House down, Jordan burned a hole into the Between so I could escape.” She put her hand on the dog’s head.**

**“That’s Parrish?”**

**“It’s the spirit inside him. Unfortunately, the person we knew as Jordan Parrish is gone.” She stroked his head with true affection. “He used up too much power saving me. I’ll never forget what he did.”**

**“We don’t have much time? Is there a limit on how long your powers can let us talk?” He looked around the disorienting room. “Are we in danger here?”**

**“Scott, you have to listen to me. We’re not able to talk because of my powers; we’re able to talk because of yours. You came to me, remember, before now? We figured it out while you were in a coma; it’s dangerous to use, but you can visit those with whom you share a bond.” She shakes her head. “In fact, it’s possibly more dangerous now that you’re awake.”**

**Scott heard that distant noise again; it sounds like claws scraping against the floor. He nodded to Lydia. “Stuff like that can wait. How can I help you?”**

**“There are places in the world where the wall separating the worlds of the living and the dead is weaker. Eichen House was one location, due to what the nogitsune did there. You know another place; you’re tied to it.”**

**“The Nemeton.” He looked at the stump.**

**Lydia did not follow his eyes. “Remember, I’m not seeing what you are seeing. Things look different where I am. You can bring me back from the Between at the Nemeton.”**

**“Can I help Jordan too?” Suddenly, he heard that noise again but closer. He recognized them. It sounded like Peter did in the school that night? He whirled around again but he couldn’t pinpoint him.**

**“He’s coming, isn’t he? You are going to have to face him, sooner or later, Scott, but I’d prefer it if you face him after you bring me back from Between. You can help me; you can’t help Jordan.” She stepped forward. “On the full moon, when you are strongest, you can do it. Bring me back.”**

**“I will. I will.” There was another noise and an inhuman growl. It was closer; far closer than was comfortable, but he still couldn’t see who it was? “Who is it? Who do I have to face?”**

**“The person you’re most afraid of, Scott. But now. Now you have to go back.” Lydia took a few steps towards him and took a deep breath. “Go back!” She commanded in a voice louder than even Meredith’s.**

******

When Scott came too, Isaac was standing over him, along with an orderly that he had never seen before. He shook his head to clear it. He realized now that it had felt the same way when he had seen the vision of Stiles and then the one of Liam. It was like coming back to himself.

Is that what Lydia meant? Could he astrally project? Stiles had once spent two hours talking about the possibility of astral projection. And who was he most afraid of? Right now, he had a pretty long list of people that terrified him.

“Mr. McCall,” said the orderly. “How are you doing?”

“I must have passed out,“ Scott lied. “I’ve been very sick recently. I’m sorry if I caused anyone any trouble.”

“Like I told you,” said Isaac. He didn’t look at the orderly; his eyes were fixed on Scott.

“Do you feel like you can stand?” The orderlies here were kind and polite. Scott wasn’t used to that. 

“Yes, yes. I didn’t startle Meredith? I didn’t want to upset her.” Scott was hoping that Meredith wouldn’t get in trouble. He let the orderly help him up.

“She’s fine, but we took her back to her room.”

“She said to tell you goodbye, and that she hopes you’ll come see her again,” Isaac added.

Scott smiled and let Isaac help him out to the car. When they were out of earshot he smiled up Isaac. “We can get Lydia back.”

Isaac nods. He’s not too enthusiastic, because he never really had much contact with Lydia. “Where the hell is she?”

Scott explained what Lydia had told him. This time, he didn’t leave anything out, including the person who was stalking him there.

“That sounds like magic,” Isaac observed. “I hate magic.”

“You’re a werewolf, and you hate magic?” Scott looked at Isaac, trying to get across that he was being unreasonable. 

“Well, humans really should eat green, leafy vegetables, but they can still hate green, leafy vegetables,” Isaac protested as they got in the car.

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but it hung open as he failed to come up with an adequate reply. Finally, he said “Point. But I need to go back and talk to Deaton. This is great news. It’s sad news about Parrish, though.”

“Never met him,” shrugged Isaac. It was one of Isaac’s standard behaviors: shrugging off intense situations with practiced indifference. It endeared him to Scott even though it also sometimes irritated him.

“Yes, you did.” Scott hesitated. “He took our statements about Allison.”

Scott didn’t know why he said it. Maybe he wanted to get past Isaac’s mask of apathy. Maybe he wanted to needle him a little so Isaac wouldn’t be worried about him passing out again. Isaac didn’t respond and they drove in silence for a half hour. 

“He was a good guy.” Scott finally sighed. “I guess it would have been too much to hope that everyone I knew would be all right. Or even just alive.”

Isaac spoke with conviction from the driver’s seat, suddenly, like he wanted to change the conversation. “You were talking about what Lydia said, that it was you who was able to talk to her. What did she mean by that?”

Scott looked at the road. “I thought they were just dreams.” He fidgeted. “I thought that it was wish fulfillment, really. You know the times I’ve passed out?”

Isaac nodded while driving.

“Well, I didn’t tell anyone, because I thought it was just a dream or something – we’ve had them before. But Lydia believes I can actually go to those places. It helped because she was the first one who could talk to me.” He came to a realization. “Because she could hear me when Stiles and Liam couldn’t.” He went on to tell Isaac about seeing Stiles’ cell and where Liam was being kept.

“Has this ever happened before?”

“No. I mean, not exactly. You remember we did something similar to find our parents; I went to the White Room. And then, when Lydia and I went inside Stiles’ head, though I wasn’t sure if that was the White Room or Stiles’ memory of it. Now that I’m not freaked out about these visits, I think it is something similar to when I did that.”

Isaac seemed to be disturbed. “Any idea what caused you to be able to do it?”

“Not a clue. Maybe something happened while I was in the coma?” 

Isaac kept driving through the night, but Scott could hear the heartbeat surge in his chest and the smell of anxiety. Scott debated trying to force Isaac to talk about it. Finally, he could not take it anymore. “Is this bothering you?” 

“I told you, I don’t like magic.” Isaac snapped, but even if he couldn’t hear his heart, Scott knew that Isaac was avoiding the answer. “It might not be a good thing. When has anything with that damn tree been a good thing?”

Scott could understand why Isaac was upset. “You see, this is why I didn’t tell anyone, but I can’t ignore it any more. Do you think we’ll get home tonight?”

“Late.” Isaac was being reserved, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. 

******

Scott woke up in the passenger’s seat of the SUV. The car was parked outside of Deaton’s home; he must have been asleep for hours. “Dude, you didn’t have to drive all the way back. I could have taken a shift.” He glanced over at Isaac.

Isaac was staring at the house and the squares of light the windows threw upon the ground. The car was off and dark. “How long have we been back?”

“A half hour.” Isaac’s voice was quiet. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Scott stared at him. “Isaac, what’s going on? You're being a little weird.” He could smell the distress coming from his beta.

“Am I?” 

“Yes. You know you can tell me anything. You know you should tell me anything. Even if I get angry, even if I think that what you did is wrong, it’s not going to change what we are to each other.” Whatever that happens to be, Scott said to himself. 

“You say that as if it is easy, as if you are sure.” Isaac suddenly said angrily. “You say things won’t change, and I don’t think you can say that. You don’t …” He gripped the steering wheel. “You don’t know that. I know I left, and it was the right thing to do, but you don’t trust me. And you shouldn’t.”

Scott sighed. “I do trust you. What I’m doing now, trying to rebuild my pack. It’s the most important thing that I’ve done so far in my life. These people relied on me, and they’re lost and alone. You’re with me, and I want you with me. That means I trust you.”

Isaac opened up the car door. He didn’t say anything. 

“Does this have something to do with what you and Chris aren’t telling me?” Scott made a play for it. “Because I trust both of you – if you aren’t saying anything because you think it’ll distract me, I understand. You’ll tell me when you need to.”

Isaac looked at him like Scott had just caught him snacking on babies. He shut the door and went to the house in a rush. 

“Okay,” Scott said to the empty car. “That was supposed to be reassuring.”

Scott climbed out of the SUV and went into the house. He thought about tracking Isaac down, but he decided against it. He would give him a chance to calm down first. 

He worked his way through the house. It was still weird that he couldn’t hear everyone, but he did hear his mother watching television in the family room. She was watching some cop drama on the couch. It might be good to just talk to her about stupid stuff. 

He just sat down next to her. It wasn’t their house, and both of them knew that things were never going to be like they were again, but it was a little bit of normal, watching bad television together.

At the first commercial break, she asked him. “How was your trip?”

Scott smiled. “It was good. Found out things, good things.” Well, he had found out disturbing things as well, but he didn’t want to ruin the mood. 

“I’m happy.” She handed him a bowl of popcorn. “I probably don’t want to know what you are going to do next, do I?”

“Probably not. Do you have the night off?” 

“Oh, I’m on leave,” she said. “Chris convinced me that I was in too much danger to keep going to work.” She smiled at him. “To tell you the truth, the last five months have freaked me out a bit. I’m use to working.”

Scott smiled. “It’s not been all bad, has it?”

The show came back on and they watched it in silence for a while. Scott thought it was like every other cop show he had ever watched. 

At the next commercial break, his mother shrugged and smiled. “No, it hasn’t been all bad. Your father is a pain in the ass and there might be an ancient killer trying to get all of us, but I have gotten plenty of beauty sleep. It’s much better now that your back.”

He gave her a hug and then said, slyly. “And you’re dating Mr. Argent.”

She smiled at him. “Yes. That’s also a benefit.“ The smile disappeared. “You don’t mind?”

Scott screwed up his face. “Would you care if I did? But no, I don’t mind. I might have to smash a car window and stick a claw in his face, but I don’t mind.”

“What?” His mother looked alarmed.

“It was a joke.” He smiled at her. “You like him a lot?”

Melissa didn’t answer immediately. The commercials ended the show spilled out over them, but Scott could tell neither of them was paying much attention. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen the same plot on this show a thousand times over – it’d been on for twenty years.

“I do.” She smiled at the thought. “Do you want to know why?” 

“Sure.” He looked at her with an imploring expression. “Just remember I’m your only son, and I have a delicate sensibility.” 

“Mmm-hmmmm.” She answered. “He stays. I don’t mean he never goes anywhere. I mean he stays where people need him. Where people want him. He doesn’t leave when things get difficult. He comes here to this town, where his wife, his sister, his daughter died, again and again, because he feels responsible. He doesn’t leave.” She sighed. “You don’t find many people like that, Scott.”

Scott nodded. He had come to rely on Chris Argent to help him through all this. It had been a long time since he had actually pointed a gun at him, and he was grateful. 

“Also, I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Mom!” Scott exclaimed, scandalized. He and his mom were close, but they weren’t that close. At least, he didn’t want to be that close. 

“You’re eighteen now. You’re an adult. Also, I love watching you squirm like that.” 

Scott blushed but then looked back at her, very seriously. “I heard that you might marry him.” 

“What? Where did you hear that?”

“I overheard Isaac teasing Gerard.” Scott shrugged. “It might be cool.”

“Oh, we’re not there yet, Scott. And Isaac should stop teasing people, especially people who I’m scared of and probably wants to kill all of us.” She glances over her shoulder. “I don’t know about you, but I kind of hate that guy. I know why Chris tolerates him, but …”

“You don’t have to tell me. I don’t like my Dad either. Though, to be honest, Dad hasn’t stuck a knife in my stomach or had a lizard creature strangle you. Yet.” He made another joke. “Seriously, Chris already promised me that the moment the Beast is dealt with, he’s leaving. I don’t want him in my territory anymore.”

“Your territory?” She shook her head. “I can never get used to you saying stuff like that.”

Scott replied. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to stop.” 

“No, no, no. That’s not what I meant. You’re going to be what you are, and I’ve accepted that a long time ago.” She gives him a kiss. “I only want the best for you; if having a territory is part of what you need to be the best you can be, then you should keep talking about what you want.”

Scott nods and then said wryly. “Like I know what I want.”

His mother gave him the eye – the ‘you are going to have to explain that’ eye.

“I think Isaac likes me,” he admitted. 

“Yes, I think that’s pretty obvious, Scott.”

“No, I mean like-likes me.” 

“Yeah, Scott, so did I. The question is do you like him back?” She asked it in a way to make sure he understood that it was fine.

“It’s not that simple!” He protested.

“Actually, it kind of is that simple. He likes you; do you like him?”

“I love Kira,” Scott said. “I told her that and I meant it. But …” He looks down. “It’s about time again. I talked to Mr. Yukimura and he told me that she could be with the Skinwalkers for months. Maybe even years.” He looked up at his mother. “And I’d wait for her. I would, but I also know one thing – coming to terms with what you are changes you. That’s why Allison and I broke up. She became one thing and I became another.” He spreads his hands out. “It’s already been six months. Am I shallow because part of me doesn’t want to wait again? If she comes back out of the desert and she’s moved on?”

His mother but her hand on his shoulder. 

“And what if I move on, and she comes back and she hasn’t moved on? And I missed the chance with her because I was too impatient?”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Scott. You should talk to her, and if you can’t talk to her, you should do what makes you happy. You get one life; you should have learned by now that you are going to make mistakes no matter what. Avoiding risky things so you don’t make a mistake is not going to help you be happier.”

“Even if it hurts someone I love?” 

“You are going to do that anyway.” She kissed him on the forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jordan Parrish is revealed to have 'died' in this chapter.


	8. Which Are Children of an Idle Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott investigates what has happened with Kira and learns more about his new abilities. Scott runs into Hayden at the school.

Scott, having borrowed his mother’s spare house key, managed to sneak out of the house before Isaac woke up. He wasn’t mad at Isaac, but today he wanted to have some time alone to think things through. He kept replaying his mom’s words, trying to figure out what he wanted to do.

He had a feeling that this would piss Isaac off, so he left a note. It told his beta that he was going to get his bike and then drive to see Stiles. He would call Isaac if he needed him. Scott didn’t like how it sounded, but Isaac made it clear that he was there to help.

Still, the long walk to town made things a lot easier. He could forget for a little bit the pressing matters and just enjoy the day. There once had been a lot more times like this, when he could choose to think about things or choose not to think about it at all. He missed those days.

Now, though, his thoughts were dominated by Isaac. He felt ambushed by what Isaac felt for him and by what he, in turn, felt for Isaac. Isaac had been his first really close friend other than Stiles; that friendship had burned so hot that there had seldom been room for anything else. Stiles could be smothering sometimes, and he often acted out when he was jealous, so it was easier not to have other people. Learning to be friends with Isaac had been like discovering something new about himself. If he hadn’t been crushed into numbness by Allison’s death, he was sure that Isaac leaving would have hurt like hell, too.

Now, the friendship had become something more. Maybe it had always been something more, but he had simply missed it because it hadn’t felt like what he felt when he was with Allison. With Allison, love had been a whirlpool that drew both of them under. It was so intense, so pure, so new that it was like the world had burned away to reveal a second one beneath it. He realized that he probably hadn’t made the best decisions while they were together, but he explained it to himself that he had even less idea of what he was doing than usual. His whole landscape had changed; he could forgive himself for getting lost.

Kira was different for he had been different when he met her. He was a new alpha, and he understood that he had responsibilities. He couldn’t let the feelings that grew between them unsettle him. Part of him may have resented not being able to plunge into the relationship without a care, but in the end, he felt it made their relationship better. Kira’s love was the sun after the storm and a rock on which he could stand; when she looked at him he no longer felt like he had no idea what he was doing. She made him better.

What he realized he was feeling for Isaac wasn’t quite like either of them. It certainly wasn’t as intense, but not everything had to be intense to be good. He had never said “I like him” or “I love him.” He said “That’s Isaac.” Honestly, he had thought they had become good friends, but then Isaac had kissed him. Nothing exploded. There were no trumpets. But it didn’t feel wrong; it felt right. It felt good. 

That didn’t mean that he knew what to do about it. What he had talked about his mother was still a concern: he loved Kira. He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t want to just move on because her need to learn about herself was inconvenient. On the other hand, there was the lesson he had learned from six months of waiting for Allison: sometimes even good things end. He had died and then nearly died again. He wasn’t sure he was willing to risk waiting for someone who might never return. He was a werewolf and the Nemeton was still sending out its beacon and the resurrected Beast of Gevaudan was roaming out there in the dark. He could be permanently dead before she came back; he certainly wasn’t egotistical enough to believe that he couldn’t die. 

Was it selfish to want to kiss someone before that happened? 

He had a plan though. Once he visited Stiles, he would see if he could make that plan happen. He hoped it would happen. 

He finally arrived at his house. He crept around the sides to make sure his father wasn’t home. It galled him to have to do this; this was his house. As he came close to the back door, he saw something in the fallow flower bed. They were prints that looked like a dog’s prints, but he knew they could be a wolf’s prints. He followed them to find them transform into a human’s bare foot.

Immediately, a thrill of excitement stirred in his heart. Had Derek come back? That’d be great. He never thought he would say that, but after Derek had lost his alpha status, their relationship had brought Scott a measure of reassurance. Derek had become so much wiser (there really wasn’t another word for it) and he seemed to believe in Scott more than Scott himself did. 

Scott leant down to confirm that it was Derek. It wasn’t. In fact, the scent made him growl out loud, which he hoped hadn’t been seen or heard by any neighbors. He knew the scent: Theo. He had been here, and he had been here recently. 

The good mood engendered by his walk and thoughts about Isaac vanished. It was time to do something about that asshole.

******

Scott drove down to the Beacon County Jail. He wasn’t going to miss this day; he had to get through to Stiles that no matter how angry his best friend was, Scott wasn’t going anywhere. It was a long trip on the motorcycle, and he had calmed down about the discovery that Theo was creeping around his house. 

As had happened the first three times he had come here, Stiles refused to come out to meet him. Scott only waited ten minutes this time, for he had a lot to do today, and he didn’t have the ability to waste time. He had something planned for the afternoon. 

He hesitated out in the parking lot while getting ready to drive back. He promised himself he would never give up on Stiles, but he was leaving after only ten minutes. Was he that fickle? He shook his head. It was not like he was never coming back – he would be back tomorrow. 

He drove all the way back to Beacon Hills with determination. He had one thing he had to do and then he would call Isaac and ask him to meet him at the school. 

The Yukimura House still had its “For Sale” sign out front. While Ken and Noshiko had decided to return to New York when they learned that it might be some time before Kira would be able to leave the desert, they were stuck with this house. Beacon Hills’ reputation had suffered a great deal and normal people were leaving it in droves. It was definitely a buyer’s market. It was a pity to see the beautiful house looking so empty and abandoned. 

Still, it suited his purposes this morning. Thinking back over the times he had used this strange new power, he had always been thinking pretty intensely about the person he had visited. Meredith had told him he needed to focus. So that is what he was going to do.

He slipped into Kira’s room. When they were dating, she had rigged the window so it would look like it was locked and it wasn’t. He was able to come without her parents knowing it. Well, he suspected that Noshiko may have suspected, because while he was better at stealth than he used to be, he was totally unaware of how good her senses were. Still, she never burst in when he was there, so that was a plus.

The room hurt him. The furniture was gone. The bed was gone. To the human eye, every trace that Kira had lived here and had spent time there with him had vanished. But to him, the scents had not faded: her favorite perfume, her shampoo, her skin. He sat down on the floor where the bed should have been with his back to the wall. 

He closed his eyes and thought about Kira. First he tried the physical – how she smelled, how she looked, how she sounded. He missed her laugh. When things were good, she laughed all the time. He imagined how her hair felt when he ran his fingers through it.

Well, something was happening, and it wasn’t something he could control. Getting turned on wasn’t astral projection or whatever the hell he had done before. 

He moved on to a more abstract way of thinking about her, after he had calmed down. He thought of her name, the fact that she was a thunder kitsune, all the places where she had lived. He thought of her favorite movie. He thought of which classes she liked and the ones she didn’t. He thought of her explanation that she still kind of hated her mother for all the lies, even though she understood why she had lied. It did not stop her from taking advantage of their guilt; for example, they had been ready to move back to New York and Kira had badgered them into staying to make it up to her.

Now he wasn’t turning himself on, he was making himself sad. 

He shook his head. How had he done it before? He had been thinking of Stiles, Liam, and Lydia. With Stiles, it was a combination of shock, worry, and guilt. Stiles had been sent to jail for attacking him, and it wasn’t fair. With Liam, it was the same, shock, worry, and guilt. Liam was in terrible danger, having been captured by Theo. But he hadn’t been shocked or guilty when he visited Lydia. He had been hopeful of being able to rescue her and happy that he could do something for a member of his pack rather than just learn how much of a mess he had left them in.

It took him a few minutes to puzzle it out, but he eventually came to the conclusion. It was about pack. As the alpha, he was responsible for them, which meant he _should_ feel worried or guilty or hopeful when it came to one of them. 

He thought about Kira being part of the pack. He thought about Kira protecting Lydia when Tracy had hurt her. He thought about Kira luring Liam out to the lake house. She didn’t have to be pack; she was a kitsune, which Noshiko had stressed were more solitary creatures. She chose to be part of the pack, and that loyalty should be rewarded. She shouldn’t be abandoned just because she had trouble controlling her fox. Did she feel abandoned? Did she feel lonely and scared?

This line of thought paid off, coupled with his belief that he could do this. He could go to them; he didn’t even remember his head hitting the back wall as he went unconscious.

**He was standing on a flat plane of rock high above the desert floor. Scott had no idea where he was; he had never been near the place in New Mexico where Noshiko and Kira went to get in touch with the Skinwalkers, so he didn’t know any of the landscape. It seemed pretty enough, but it was certainly exposed to the sun and the wind and the storm.**

**Kira was right there, with her back to him. She was sitting lotus-style on the rock. She must be meditating or something, but Scott didn’t care. He took a step toward her. “Kira.” He didn’t think she would be able to hear him, but he had to try. He was just so happy that she was okay.**

**She did not look around, which did not surprise him at all. Neither Stiles nor Liam had been consciously aware of him; Lydia had been, but she wasn’t presently in the physical world and she could always hear more than others anyway. What did surprise him was her fox, which twisted its head to look at him.**

**He had never addressed the fox directly. Considering it was the source of the recent trouble, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to or even if it was a good idea. They watched each other warily, as Scott tried to figure out what to do.**

**It turned out that he didn’t have to figure out what to do because he was suddenly interrupted by a sharp pain to the back of his head. Scott wasn’t aware that he could be hurt, since he wasn’t actually there, but it certainly felt like pain. He turned around to find a woman with a painted face, a spear, and very little clothing scowling at him.**

**“You can see me?” He asked and then felt dumb. Of course, she could see him. What was more surprising was that she could touch him.**

**“We know how to spirit walk,” replied the Skinwalker, with no further explanation.**

**“Is that what I’m doing? I just came to check on Kira.” Scott hesitated and then realized what he should say. “I’m her alpha.”**

**“We know what you are to her, which is why we cannot let you speak to her.”**

**Scott growled at the Skinwalker, which was probably not wise since he had no idea what he could or could not do while ‘spirit walking.’ “Let me speak to her? Who are you to stop me?” He didn’t know these people at all. Noshiko had chosen to share very little.**

**“She is here to learn balance between the fox and the woman. You saw what could happen if there is no balance.”**

**Scott sighed. “I did. I am not here to take her away if she’s getting the help she needs, but … couldn’t I just talk to her?”**

**“No. She must focus on herself. Her feelings for you and her feelings for your pack will serve only to make her look outside of herself. You must give her time.”**

**“How much time?”**

**“As long as it takes.” The Skinwalker spoke as if that ended the discussion.**

**Scott demanded of the woman as he reached out and snagged her arm. “Look, I can’t …”**

**The Skinwalker whirled around and hit him in the face with her spear – the sharp end. He didn’t feel like it was bleeding or like it was dead, but it was hard and the pain was immense.**

**“This is our territory and our rules. Leave. You may not be killed while spirit walking, but there are worse fates than death.”**

Scott found himself back in Kira’s old room. He held his hands to his face but there was no blood. There was certainly plenty of pain though, and he rolled around on the floor until it subsided. He would be more careful in the future.

The trip was frustrating, but it told him what he needed to know. Kira was getting the help he needed from the most unhelpful mentors this side of Alan Deaton. She may not be happy, but she was healthy and not locked in a cell somewhere. He guessed that was all he could hope for. He would certainly talk to his mentor about them. 

He’d apologize to for the uncharitable thought. Deaton had always been helpful if not exactly wordy. Pain made Scott grumpy.

He pulled out his phone to call Isaac. 

“Hey? Who is this?” Isaac was grumpy, too.

“Dude, don’t be like that. I told you I just wanted some alone time.” Scott pleaded. “I need you with me now.”

“Oh, all right. Where?”

“School. I’m going to talk to some chimeras.” 

******

Scott waited for Hayden outside her fifth period class. He knew her scent – it had only been a week or so for him since he had been with her while she was dying. He positioned himself where he wouldn’t be seen immediately when they came out.

“I am so becoming Derek,” he muttered to himself. “Creeping around the school. Should I buy a leather jacket?”

It was interesting he was bringing up Derek, for he was going for the subtle menace thing that Derek could pull off almost effortlessly. He wasn’t really comfortable with it, but he needed to get Hayden to react in a certain way. He’d apologize to her later.

The bell rang and students flooded out of the classrooms. Scott suddenly felt a wave of anger and sadness. He should be coming out of the classrooms. He should be fighting senioritis. He should be worrying about who he was going to take to the prom. Instead, he was planning to scare a sophomore into helping him get his kidnapped beta back. 

Hayden kept her head down as she went to her locker. She seemed less confident of herself than she was before, but Scott guessed that had to be expected. She had died, after all. He knew what that felt like.

Scott stepped around the corner when he heard her open her locker. “Hello, Hayden.”

If he was trying to scare her, he was doing a good job. She nearly jumped three feet when he appeared. She looked around like she was going to bolt for it.

“Don’t be scared. Even if I was going to try to hurt you -- which I’m not -- I wouldn’t do it in a crowded school hallway.” He leaned up against the wall next to her locker. “Don’t you have to get some books for the next class?”

Hayden glanced down the hallway. “I thought you were in a coma.” She managed to open her locker, slowly, while still watching him.

“I was. Obviously, I’m not any more. How are you doing, Hayden? I’m only asking because, well, last time I saw you, you were dying.” Scott mentally shook his head. He needed to work on the intimidation thing.

“I’m not dead.” She shifted from one foot to another, nervously, and then looked down the hallway. 

“I’m glad. I know you probably don’t want to believe that, but I am. “

“What do you want, Scott?” Hayden sounded irritable suddenly. 

“You know what I want, Hayden. Actually, you know who I want.” Scott knew she didn’t deserve to be a part of this, but he couldn’t let that stop him. 

Another student came up behind them, unbidden. He was a tall and thin but he moved with strength and confidence. Scott wasn’t frightened, but something about the way the kid moved stirred darker memories.

“I can’t help you,” said Hayden. “Thanks for coming, Noah.” 

“Can’t help me? Or won’t help me?” Scott demanded. “I know you know where Liam is. You have to know.”

Hayden bit her lip. “There’s nothing I can do about that. You don’t know what it’s been like. Theo’s the only reason that I’m still alive.” Noah was standing just to the right of her, like a bodyguard. Scott didn’t look him in the eye, but he knew where he was.

Scott studied her and her bodyguard. “Well, here’s the thing. I am going to find Liam. It’s going to happen. It doesn’t have to be violent, but if people try to stop me, it will.”

Noah stepped up in front of Hayden and growled, low. “You threaten her again and I’ll …”

Now, Scott looked him in the eye, holding the gaze as the boy trailed off. He wished he knew how to do the Derek-eyebrow-come-get-some-maneuver. After a moment, he turned to Hayden. “Aren’t you supposed to let Theo know if you see me?”

Hayden nodded, and Scott smiled. He’d guessed right. 

“Well, then don’t you think you should call him and let him know that I’m at school?”


	9. Begot of Nothing but Vain Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott, with Isaac's help, confronts some of the chimeras and Theo Raeken at the high school. Things take an emotional turn from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating of this work has changed.

Scott studied Hayden and Noah on the front steps of the school. Actually, the three of them were studying each other as the rest of the students headed home for the day. The parking lot was full of friends shouting at each other and seniors eager to get home pulling away in cars and freshmen getting onto buses. It should be them. Hayden should be getting into her Toyota; he should be getting on his bike; Noah should be riding the bus home. 

But they’re not. They staring at each other like they think a fight was about to break out at any moment. And maybe it would. 

Scott didn’t want to fight either of them. He knew that they were chimeras. He knew they didn’t ask for this any more than he had asked to be a werewolf. He knew that Theo had had plenty of time to sink his hooks into them, to convince them that working with him was the only way they could stay alive. Somehow, he had brought Hayden back from the dead and Scott knew from personal experience how disorienting that could be. He also knew from experience how Theo could tell you exactly what you wanted to hear.

“Hayden …” He began. He had to at least try to reach her. 

“Don’t. I don’t want to talk to you,” she replied, hastily. Her anxiety seemed to feed into Noah, who growled at him. 

“You’ve no reason not to talk to me. But you know what that sounds like to me?” Scott questioned, gently. “It sounds like you’ve been told not to talk to me. Why wouldn’t Theo want you to talk to me?”

“No,” Hayden snapped back. “I don’t want to talk to you. I’m tired of being a piece in someone else’s game.”

Noah continued his brooding, menacing thing. Was he always this silent and looming? Scott may have seen him once or twice before this all started. He couldn’t remember what the boy was like.

Hayden went on with an air of exasperation. “I doubt that’s going to stop you though. Why do you even want to talk to me?”

“Because I know that everything that happened wasn’t your idea. You’re not my enemy, you’re not a pawn, and this isn’t a game.”

“I’m not? Liam told me everything, you know. Theo used me to drive a wedge between you and Liam. He used me to get Liam to try to kill you.” She shook her head fiercely. “I know I should be thinking of other people, but do you know what it feels to be used like that? I know that my own death wasn’t even about me. It was about you.” Hayden’s anger was so palpable, that Scott could tell that she didn’t care what he wanted or what Theo wanted. How long had she been holding it in?

“I do.” Scott admitted. “Believe me, I do.” She didn’t look like she believed him so he went on. “Back when I was a sophomore there was a sort of a war between the Argents and the local pack. One of the Argents threatened to kill my mother unless I spied on the pack for them; I was an omega then. So I joined the pack and I gave the man who threatened my mother all the information he wanted. He was using me to betray someone else.”

Hayden looked shocked. “Theo talks about you all the time, how you are such a goody two-shoes that you can’t protect anyone. That you lost everything because you trusted people too much.” 

“I’m not a goody two-shoes. I poisoned that man.” Scott didn’t have to lie. “But I’ve heard what Theo said about me before. I hear it all the time. It might make me weak, but I guess I’d rather live in a world where I can trust people. Do you like the way Theo runs his pack? Is that how you want to live?” 

“I don’t have a choice.” 

“You always have a choice. Both of you do. Sometimes it’s hard to think that way – no, it’s always hard to think that way. To realize that no matter how bad things get, what you do is always up to you. That’s what I learned. And for your information …” He stepped forward and flashed his eyes at them. “I haven’t lost yet.”

This startled them. Noah took a step forward. “You trying to intimidate us?”

“I’m trying to warn you. If you really want to fight for Theo and Theo’s cause, fight for him. If that’s your choice, then fight as hard as you need to, because you are going to have to fight hard.” Scott shook his head. “You need to know I’m going to fight for my pack, and if I have to go through you to do it, I will.” 

“I don’t want to fight for anyone,” Hayden replied quietly. “I want to survive. I want to know what happened to me; how I am alive again. Noah wants to know why he can sense what I want.”

Noah nodded his head. He looked a little frightened. “I have to do what she says.”

Scott doesn’t even want to think about that. “I can ask Deaton, but it can’t happen now. My first priority is my pack, and then the Beast, and then … then we can figure out how we can all live here without killing each other.”

No one else had the chance to say anything, because Theo drove up in his ridiculous truck. Maybe Scott was jealous, but it felt like Theo was … overcompensating. He wasn’t alone. He had Tracy Stewart with him. 

Scott pushed himself off the side of the school’s steps where he had been sitting and went down to meet him. To anyone else, it would be like two friends meeting in the school parking lot. 

“So you're back?” Theo said carefully. For all his scheming, Theo wasn’t Peter. He learned from his mistakes. “Feeling better?”

Scott tried not to look exasperated and failed. Theo wore the mask so well that Scott couldn't help but wonder if there was a part of Theo that actually liked him even while the chimera was plotting his death. Scott wondered if that was how Theo had fooled everyone. When he offered to help, when he praised Scott, when he said Stiles was a good friend, when he said that Scott needed his pack – Theo may have meant it. He could sincerely wish you the best while plotting to destroy you. 

Tracy on the other hand was all malice, only Scott could tell it wasn’t directed at anyone particular. It was a seething resentment at the world. She really didn’t want to feel weak anymore, did she?

“I am actually surprised, Scott, that you’d come back here. This isn’t your territory anymore. You don’t have any reason to fight for it.” Theo tried to sound reasonable. “Why are you here, harassing my betas?”

Scott could have answered that so many ways, but he didn’t want to. There was no point getting into a verbal duel with Theo Raeken. Let the chimera twist the truth; he was going to speak plainly. “I want Liam. I know you have him.”

“I do have him, but he’s not your pack anymore, Scott. He’s mine.” Theo shrugged slightly as if to say there was nothing he could have done about that. “And honestly, would you want him back? He did try to kill you.”

Scott looked back at Hayden and Noah … and Corey who was standing next to them. Where did he come from? Oh. Right. Scott would have to figure out a way to tell if Corey was nearby. They were still standing on the school’s steps. Scott took a step towards Theo. “I’m not going to argue with you. Give him back. Don’t we have enough to worry about without fighting each other? The Beast isn’t your ally.”

“Maybe I think that Liam would be happier in my pack than with you. He needs a pack, and as we both know, you don’t have one. I’m strong enough to protect him. I’m strong enough to protect Hayden. I’ll do what’s _necessary_ to protect them.” He said this with pity, as if Scott wasn’t strong enough to protect his pack and certainly wouldn’t do what was necessary to protect them.

“As for the Beast, well, if you notice, it hasn’t been very active in the last few months. When it does show itself, I’ll be ready. More ready than you are.” He shrugged. “Tell you what, Scott. If you are still around when it does make its move, I’ll let you help, since you are so concerned.”

“What I’m not going to let you do is get in the way. You had your time, and you failed.” At the hint of menace in his voice, Tracy revealed her claws and her eyes. “You aren’t in a position to demand Liam. You aren’t in a position to do much of anything.”

It all sounded very reasonable. It all sounded very plausible. Standard Theo Bullshit.

“Theo, I think you’re forgetting three very important things.” Scott said quietly. 

“What would those be, Scott?”

“First, you don’t actually have a pack. They’re not werewolves. You’re not a werewolf. You’re more like a gang than a pack. I can tell; want to know how I can tell?” Scott tried to keep his voice level. The point was to unsettle Theo, not feel better about himself.

“How?” The mask slipped on Theo’s face. He did not like being told he was wrong.

“There are no bonds; a real werewolf can tell. Some of them like you; some of them fear you. None of them trust you. You’re standing in front of an enemy and not one of those three has made a move to defend you, and you haven’t told them not to. Real betas would instinctively defend you.”

Theo shrugged. “They’re still new to this. Give it time.” It was a plausible lie, but this time Scott did hear his heart skip a beat.

“Second, I do have a pack.” Scott nodded. “Now.” 

Two muffled gunshots would barely have been heard by passersby. To those with heightened senses, they were heard plainly. Tracy went down with a bullet in the stomach and one in the leg. Her skin was tough, but not that tough. She gasped in pain.

Theo’s eyes grew wide. “That’s Isaac. He was my first beta. He likes guns for some reason.” Scott said evenly. “Dude, you didn’t say you had a silenced rifle. That’s cool.” 

On the roof of the school, Isaac flashed him the thumbs up. Scott could hear him when he spoke. “Uh, it’s actually called a suppressor.” 

Theo dropped his own claws, splitting his attention between him and Isaac. Scott saw he paid little attention to Tracy’s predicament. “Don’t worry, Tracy. They’re just normal bullets; you’ll be fine.”

Theo had fully shifted. “So what’s the third thing, Scott?” Theo was ready for a fight.

“The third thing?” Scott suddenly blurred forward, picked Theo up and threw him a dozen feet into the grill of his own truck. The savagery of the assault caught Theo by surprise; it was meant to. Bones snapped and metal crumpled. The air rushed out of Theo’s lungs. “You’re not an alpha. _I’m_ an alpha.” 

Scott immediately followed up to stand right in front of his enemy, fully transformed. Theo opened his mouth to cough or to say something snide and Scott caught him by the jaw. “I’m tired of you talking.” Under the power of his grip, Theo’s jaw broke in two places. It would heal, but he wouldn’t be speaking clearly for a while.

Scott let some of his rage out at Theo. He’d lost six months of his life. He’s lost some of his closest friends. People were dead. He might have lost his future, and this asshole was the cause. “Right now, I’m not poisoned. Right now, I’ve not had the shit beaten out of my by someone I never wanted to hurt. Right now, face to face, I’m a real werewolf and you’re a science fair project. You have no chance against me.”

He turned Theo’s face from side to side, examining it. Scott could feel the anger surge through his veins. Now, before Theo could recover, before Tracy could recover, before the other chimeras could decide what to do, he could rip the First Chimera’s head right off his body. Part of him wanted to do it – a very large part.

Scott took a deep breath. He wasn’t like that. He was never going to be like that. He spoke loud enough so everyone present in the parking lot could hear him. “You have until two days after the full moon to give me Liam. If you don’t hand him over, I’ll come for him. You are right about one thing though, Theo. I don’t have a very big pack, so I’ll guess I’ll have to bring the Argents with me.” 

He threw Theo to the ground hard, turned his back, and walked toward the school. “You might want to get them out of here before someone sees,” Scott told Hayden, Corey and Noah. He let the doors close behind him.

******

Scott has been standing in the locker room shower for about ten minutes. Maybe the chimeras had left, maybe they had not. He wasn’t sure he cared to find out. If there was a problem, Isaac would let him know.

He had been walking down the hall after the confrontation with Theo with a smile on his face. He’d bet that sonofabitch hadn’t expected that. Theo was such a smug bastard who thought that he was smarter than everyone else. The look on his face when Scott had shown him just how weak he was put a spring into the alpha’s step. Theo had hurt him in ways that no one else – not Deucalion, not Jennifer, not Gerard, not even Peter -- had ever hurt him. It felt good to dish some of that out, to make someone else feel like a fool and a failure for once.

It felt more than good; it felt great.

_It felt more than good; it felt great._

If felt more than good; it felt great. It felt great to hurt someone simply for the purpose of getting them to do what you want. If felt great to watch a girl fall to the ground bleeding. It felt great to see someone’s eyes widen in fear of you. It felt great to know the way a bone broke beneath your hand.

Suddenly, it didn’t feel great anymore. 

Since then, he’d been standing in the shower in the darkened locker room. He was shaking with fear. It wasn’t fear of the chimeras or fear of the Beast or fear that being a werewolf would all he would ever be or fear that he would never see Kira again or fear that he would hurt Isaac or fear that he no longer had Stiles.

_It was the fear of feeling great._

“Scott?” Isaac call echoed through the room. “Are you in here?” He didn’t answer, and Isaac finally found him, standing with his back against the wall in the empty shower. 

Isaac must have already been upset by the bond, because he simply dropped the rifle case on the ground and came over to where he is standing. “What’s the matter?”

“I … I don’t want to be like that.” Scott admitted almost too quietly for anyone to hear. 

“Like what?”

Scott couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, but he didn’t want to tell Isaac. He liked it when Isaac listened to him. He liked it when Isaac looked at him like he’s something special, like he was someone he wanted to follow. That wasn’t wrong, was it? To want people to think you’re worth something.

Isaac came close to him. “Like what, Scott?”

Scott put his hands on his face. He didn’t want to say anymore. He knew that if he said it out loud, it could change everything. Isaac reached up and pulled his hands from his face; Scott knew he was letting his beta do it. An alpha was far stronger.

“I enjoyed it,” he admitted. “I enjoyed threatening the chimeras. I enjoyed putting Theo in his place. I enjoyed hurting him. I wanted to hurt him more.”

“Scott,” Isaac said, still holding his hands. “He murdered you. You were dead for fifteen minutes and then in a coma for six months. He’s the reason Kira, Malia, Lydia, and Stiles are gone. He’s holding Liam prisoner. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do that.”

“Isaac, I’m an alpha. A true alpha. That has to mean something, doesn’t it? It has to mean something or I’ve lost everything for nothing. I know that it isn’t strange or crazy to want revenge. But …” His breath hitched. His hands had stopped shaking when Isaac took them. “I didn’t just want to hurt him. I actually hurt him.”

“Scott. Getting Liam back is a good thing, right?” Isaac argued. “It’s why you did this, isn’t it? To get him back without having to attack Theo and his gang.”

“Yeah. I wanted to get Liam back without having to fight the chimeras for him. People die in fights." Scott took a breath and then said with conviction. "I didn't want anyone to die; that’s what I wanted.”

Isaac smiled fondly. "Oh. There you are." Scott didn't quite understand what he meant by that.

Isaac continued to talk. “And that’s a good thing, Scott. You’re a good person. So you enjoyed putting a raging asshole in his place. That doesn’t make you the bad guy. That doesn’t make you Peter.”

Scott took a deep breath. “I’ve always been . . . afraid of that.” 

“I know. I’ve always been afraid of becoming my father,” Isaac whispered. “We know the seeds that are in us.”

Scott drew the taller boy down and kissed him on the lips. It was impulsive, but Isaac had calmed him. Isaac still looked up to him. Isaac believed in him. “You’re not your father.” It was the best thing he thought he could say. “I’m so glad you’re with me.”

Isaac did not say anything but kissed him back. It wasn’t just a shy peck or a tentative kiss, but something deep and with meaning. It was stronger than that and it pressed Scott back up against the wall. It was _Thank You_ and _I Want You_ and _Do You Want Me?_ all wrapped into one gesture. After the exhilaration and fear of the last few minutes, Scott thought he was going to pass out from the strength of it.

Scott opened his eyes when he hadn’t even realized he had closed them. It was so strange – this was the place where he had first kissed Allison and she had first kissed him. He had loved her so much, but they had grown apart. She had turned from him to Isaac, and now he was kissing Isaac. It should be wrong and weird, but it wasn’t. Maybe feelings weren’t all ideas; maybe they were also energy, drawn together like the poles of a magnet. Maybe what they had both loved in her, they could see in each other. 

_Maybe, maybe, maybe._ Scott was thinking too much. He returned the kiss and pushed the maybes away. He’d have time to figure it out later. 

Without warning, Isaac broke from the kiss. But he wasn’t upset. He was smiling at Scott. “I didn’t imagine it would be here.”

“Imagine what?” Scott asked softly. “Wait, you’ve been imagining things?”

Isaac didn’t reply but smirked instead He puts one hand on Scott’s chest, pushing him up against the wall so he couldn't move. He was tall enough that he didn’t have to move that hand as he got down on his knees. Scott thought that it would have to be uncomfortable because after all the floor is tile, until Scott realized that _Isaac was getting down on his knees._

“Uh, Isaac? What are you doing?”

Isaac keeps one hand on Scott’s chest and starts to undo Scott’s belt with the other hand. His reply is delivered with a genuine smile. “What I want.”


	10. Which is as Thin of Substance as the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Stiles finally have the heart-to-heart discussion that Scott desired. Things are both better and worse.

Scott woke up the next morning with a smile on his face. Of course, that was never actually true; you can’t wake up smiling. He did immediately smile when he heard Isaac snoring slightly beside him. The beta had his arms thrown up around his head, so he was all stretched out, long limbs hanging over the side. 

They’d slept in the same bed before, but it was a little bit different now. He now knew that Isaac wanted to sleep in the same bed because he wanted to be with him, not just because he wanted to be with his alpha or he just didn’t want to be alone. It was a subtle difference, but it was real. 

It was pretty early in the morning, creeping towards 7 a.m., so he decided to slip out of the room quietly. Even with enhanced reflexes, slipping out of bed without waking your partner could be a pretty difficult proposition. It required patience and planning. When he had managed to do it, he smiled again at himself, because his day had started with a Minor Achievement.

He padded across the room and slipped out of the door. One of the interesting side effects of Deaton’s sound-proofed rooms was the surprise when he left them in the morning. While he was sleeping, he would relax the control on his senses; werewolves had to practice filtering things out or the sounds and smells of modern life would drive them mad. 

“I think it is still too early to involve Scott in this,” Chris Argent was saying from the kitchen. There were also the smells of brewing coffee and English muffins in the toaster. “Right now, all we have is speculation and a few incidents. He has enough on his mind as it is, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I know, I know.” It was his mother. She sounded tired, but Scott wasn’t sure it was from the early hour. “I wish I could hide him away from everything. I dream about moving somewhere else where he could just finish high school and the only thing I’d have to worry about is him knocking some girl up or failing calculus.” She sighed and Scott heard the refrigerator door open and close. “I just don’t want him to think we’re trying to manipulate him by concealing things.”

“It’s your right to protect him from the world as long as you can, Mel, but you know Scott would never leave Beacon Hills or his responsibilities.” Chris Argent said gently. “You raised him too well for that.” 

“Flatterer.” Scott was momentarily grossed out by kissing noises. He knew it was probably immature as his mother and Chris were grown adults, but as her only son he had the right to act like a child once in a while. He was curious about what they were talking about, so he continued to listen, even though it made him feel slightly guilty. “Are you still the same guy that stuck a gun in my son’s face, repeatedly?” She teased.

“That happened a long time ago, and in my defense, I was just living every father’s dream of threatening his daughter’s boyfriend with violence. I just had a really good excuse. I wouldn’t do that now.”

“Yes, you would, if you thought you had to.” His mother’s voice turned serious, but she was not angry. “If Scott suddenly started hurting innocent people, you wouldn’t hesitate to do that or worse. In a weird way, that’s why I am kind of beginning to like you; I can rely on you to put what’s right in front of what you want. Not all men do that.” 

_Like his dad,_ Scott thought sourly.

“You’d be okay with that?” Chris asked.

“Oh, hell no. I’d tear you apart with my bare hands. But I’d admire you while I was doing it.” 

“We’re not manipulating him,” Chris promised after he finished chuckling. “We’re giving him time to heal. He may have done so physically, but he needs to recover emotionally as well. For someone like Scott, that means he needs to regain his sense of himself and that means he needs his pack. If this situation changes, I will go to him immediately.”

“Your father thinks we should have already done it.” His mother sounded irritated.

Scott could almost hear Chris rolling his eyes from his position in the upstairs hallway. Scott had never ever heard Chris refer to his father by anything but his first name. “It’s important to understand that Gerard has an agenda whenever you talk with him. It’s what kept him alive and in power for so long. I’d rather you never have to interact with him, but I would also like you to be safe. Here is the safest place we can be.”

“Well, that’s good, because but after this is over, he’s not living with us. I don’t like him.”

“Nobody likes him, Mel, but we need him. The best weapons are sometimes the most dangerous. He’s grasped the lore better than I ever did.”

Scott wondered what they didn’t want to tell him, but he put that topic to the side. He would always trust his mother and he had learned to trust Chris. It wasn’t a bad thing to trust people no matter how many times someone stabbed you in the back. It made coping with the world a little easier.

He moved towards the bathroom, walking heavily enough so even non-werewolves could hear him. 

*****

Scott took Isaac with him when he drove down to the jail that day. He didn’t want Isaac to be angry with him again, though he felt guilty about continually making him wait in the car, but he did not feel guilty enough to force him to come inside the jail.

His resolution was crumbling to keep coming here. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to repair things with Stiles; it was just that it was taking three hours out of every day. The full moon was only two nights away, and while he had talked to everyone about what Lydia had said, he wanted to look into it more. Then two nights after that, he had to be ready to lead people against Theo and his chimera pack. He hoped Theo would give in. If Stiles kept refusing to speak to him, maybe he should wait until he was out of jail. He had a meeting with the judge – maybe. The judge kept cancelling. Scott was beginning to suspect his father had something to do with it.

Luckily, Stiles decided to come out today. Unluckily, he was still pissed off.

“What the fuck, Scott?” Stiles glowered as he sat down across the table. The only other people in the room were a couple three tables away and the omnipresent guard. “What’s it going to take to make you stop coming here?”

“Nothing will stop me from coming here.” Scott winced inwardly at that. It was how he felt, but it did sound a little stalkery. “Why would I stop?”

Stiles frowned at him. “You don’t care that I don’t want you here? That I don’t want anything to do with you?”

“I guess if I thought you really meant that, I wouldn’t come.” Scott tried to keep his voice reasonable and reassuring. He couldn’t afford to show how much those words hurt. He knew that Stiles always went on the attack when he was upset. Scott’s tactic had always been to take the blows and let Stiles work himself into a place where he felt secure.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. It was an expression of exasperation, but not the usual one that Scott was used to. There was malice behind it. “I just said I didn’t want you here.”

Scott nodded. “I don’t want to say that I know what you are thinking, but I’ve known you for a long time. “ He trailed off. He couldn’t think of how to say the next words without sounding insulting. He changed tactics. “I know you’re probably angry at me right now, but it won’t get better unless we actually talk.”

Stiles spat back. “You _knew_ me.” His sarcasm had gotten colder and crueler. “Prison changes a man.”

Scott took a deep breath before he started speaking again. “You know you’re not going to be in here forever. You could be out in a few weeks, if things go right. Even if things don’t go right, it is still only six months. What are you going to do then?”

“That’s none of your business.” 

Scott sighed. “Don’t you get it? I want it to be my business.” He didn’t talk about love or friendship or even pack; he thought it might set Stiles off. “You are my business. You’ve always been my business.”

“Not anymore.” Stiles leaned back in his chair. “You think I’m going to forgive you for what you did?”

Scott was stunned for a good minute. Before he could regain his composure, he said angrily. “What I did? What _I_ did? What exactly did I do?” 

Stiles scowled at him and then down at the table. It was like he was trying to put something into words. “You believed Theo over me.” 

Scott tried to puzzle that out, because that didn’t make any sense. “Uhm. No, I didn’t. I didn’t really believe Theo until you told me that he was right.”

“What?” Stiles exclaimed in surprise. 

Scott looked over at the guard. “You really want to talk about this here? Because I’m not sure we can talk about the past here and not get you in more trouble.”

“Yes, I want to talk about it here. I want to know what the hell you are talking about. I didn’t tell you he was right.” Stiles’ anger was fierce and hot. 

“No, what are you talking about? You pretty much said that you ...“ Scott lowered his voice even more and leaned across the table. “... that you had to kill him because he was going to kill your dad. I showed you the wrench and you knew immediately what I was talking about.”

Stiles had a frozen grimace on his face. “I think … Why didn’t you ask what happened?”

“I damn well did.” Scott was irritated now. He had come fully prepared to take Stiles’ anger, but he wasn’t going to take an unfair accusation. It wasn’t like he’d pranced out of the whole mess unscathed, even if Stiles conveniently forgot that. “I asked you if you had to do it, and you told me he was going to ... going after your dad. I get it; I do. You’d have done anything to protect your father, but there’s a line we can’t cross.”

This was part of the argument. “So why are you here if I am out of the pack?” Stiles hissed at him.

“There you go again, putting words in my mouth. No one said you were out of the pack. I just told you to talk to your Dad.”

“Scott, you told me not to bother looking for Lydia or Malia. You told me to go talk to my dad and then walked away. That’s pretty much out of the pack.” Stiles had that tone when he was trying to explain things to a child. 

“Why would you think that I would throw you out?” Scott demanded, because if Stiles was going to talk down to him, he was going to reply in kind. This was going so badly. “Because you … because of Donovan? Do you remember me letting Peter walk around free? Letting Deucalion go? Letting the twins hang around? Not holding it against Meredith?” He leaned forward because he was having trouble not raising his voice. “Why would I treat you worse than I treated them? What did you expect me to do?”

Stiles looked like he was close to making a break for it. “Exactly what you did. Hold me to your standards.” 

Scott sat back and bit his tongue. What other standards would he hold him to? He did not know exactly what to say to that, but he had to come up with something. “And what did you want me to do?” 

“I don’t know, understand, maybe? Believe me that I didn’t have any choice?” 

“I guess that’s something only _humans_ do,” Scott snapped back and then immediately regretted it. 

They subsided into angry silence. Scott suddenly felt tears well up in his eyes. It wasn’t going any remotely near how he had imagined it. He had to keep telling himself that there was no magic trick that would suddenly make everything all right again. 

“You know what the worst thing is?” He finally said. “That you think all this is easy for me. You said as much. You think that I don’t understand what it feels like. You think I haven’t …”

Stiles interrupted. “I know that. But you haven’t actually done it, and I have so until you actually do it you can stop judging me.”

Scott opened his eyes wide. “Is this what this is all about? It’s not because of whether it was wrong or right, it’s because you thought I would judge you? That’s why you didn’t tell me?” 

Scott couldn’t believe it. His father was right about something. Stiles had hid things from him because he didn’t want to get in trouble, like a six-year-old breaking a window. Of course, it was a little more serious than childhood accidents, but what did Stiles expect would happen when he murdered someone?

Stiles shrugged nonchalantly and they had been friends long enough for Scott to know that the answer was yes, but that Stiles didn’t want to actually admit that the answer was yes. 

It’s at that moment that it became clear to Scott; there was no going back to the way things used to be between him and Stiles. It was easy to recognize what had happened because he had recognized it happening before, in the back room at the Animal Clinic, when they were getting ready for the sacrificial baths. Allison had said 'But Scott and I both have to go in,' and then she had looked at Isaac. He had looked down at the floor because it was not until then that he had realized that there was no such thing as fate. It was then that he realized that it wasn't written anywhere that they would get back together. She had moved on, and he hadn’t. Too much had happened and the world had demanded too high a toll. And it was happening again.

A best friend is the best thing in the whole wide world. You could tell them anything, no matter how gross, or stupid, or nasty. Best friends accepted each other without question. Best friends didn’t have to worry about being judged. That’s what made them best friends. 

Scott wasn’t Stiles’ best friend anymore, because you can’t have authority over your best friend. You can’t have the responsibility of policing his actions. He had become Stiles’ Alpha. It had always been bound to happen, sooner or later. Some things just can’t survive all the horrors that live in the night.

The Bite had taken one more treasure from him. Scott wondered when it would take everything he had left. Since it was probably not a good idea to howl in the middle of the Beacon County Jail, he bit it back and stuffed it down his throat. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Stiles was studying him from across the table in that way that Stiles had when he was solving a mystery. When Scott finally got up the nerve to look him in the eyes, he saw understanding. They shared the cold and desolate knowledge that things had changed beyond return.

“So.” Stiles started. “If you want to …”

“No. I meant it. I’ll come here every day if I have to.”

“Because I’m pack.” And for the first time since he had learned the concept, Stiles saying those words drove a knife into Scott’s heart.

“Yeah.” Scott offered a small smile into the silence. He didn’t feel it.

******

“Okay,” said Isaac, as Scott back into the car. “What’s the matter? You look like …” Isaac trailed off. Scott figured that he was possibly going to say the old saying ‘like you’ve lost your best friend,’ but since that could actually have been what is happening, Isaac stopped himself.

“I didn’t think it would be easy.” Scott said as he got into the SUV. “But we took the first steps.”

“That’s good right? Then why don’t you look like it is any good?” 

Scott didn’t respond. First, he was pretty upset at what had just transpired. Second, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to share with Isaac. Isaac was pretty mad at Stiles for the assault, but if he started in on Stiles the Scott might say something mean. And the last thing he wanted to do was feel worse.

On the other hand, Scott wanted Isaac to understand. He was in the pack, wasn’t he? And if they were going to be something more than that, well, that was just more reason to tell the truth.

Scott finally spoke. “Stiles is pack. He’s going to come back to Beacon Hills when he gets out. I’m going to send him letters and e-mails so he can think about what we’re doing. He’s good at that, and he’s really, really bored. We just have to figure out everything else.” Isaac nodded but then waited as if he was going to say more. “It was harder than I thought it would be.”

“Things usually are,” Isaac said significantly. “May I say something?”

Scott studied Isaac. He didn’t seem angry. “Of course.”

“People change all the time, Scott. I know that better than anyone. I’ve changed. You’ve changed. Stiles must have changed. Things that worked before won’t work now. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

“So, that’s it?” Scott replied in frustration. “That’s what you have to say? Everyone changes? That’s supposed to make me feel better? “ He slammed his hand on the dash in front of him. Something bent under his assault. “Shit.”

“I’m saying that if all you ever wanted was for the Scott-and-Stiles Super-Bro-Floor-Show to last forever, you were never going to get what you wanted.” Isaac’s tone was flip, but his eyes weren’t. Every few seconds, he’d turn gentle eyes to him. “If it wasn’t Theo’s mind games, it would have been something else.”

Scott turned to Isaac. Isaac’s words, on the surface made sense, but the implications weren’t something he wanted to contemplate. “So how long should I expect whatever it is we have to last?” It was cruel, he supposed, to put it like that. 

“Longer.” Isaac whispered. “I hope much longer. You’ve got to be reasonable, Scott. You were children when you met each other, when you got to know each other, when you learned each other’s secrets. Maybe some childhood friendships last forever, but that’s because both people stay children.”

“It wasn’t childish!” Scott responded, hotly. But it was, wasn’t it? They were children who suddenly had to be worried about death and revenge, sacrifice and responsibility, magic goddamn trees and horror-movie creatures. “It wasn’t supposed to end.”

“My dad wasn’t supposed to start hating me, but it happens.” 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Scott turned to the window. He stared out the window as the California countryside flowed past. It offered no more comfort than Isaac had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hellish; I rewrote it six times. Please take time to comment on how this worked. I know I shouldn't try to explain my work, but two things drove me up the wall in this instance. I thought that setting the conversation in a location where they couldn't shout at each other would help focus it. It didn't; in fact, I thought it made it stilted. I also tried to get across that what I thought one of the sources of the miscommunication in "Lies of Omission" was that they were so used to knowing what the other was thinking, they simply filled in the blanks wrong.


	11. Swear Not by the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deaton offers Scott guidance and comfort; Scott finally talks to Malia the night before the full moon; an unexpected ally announces his intention to aid the pack.

Deaton had fallen silent for a few minutes before Scott realized he had done so. When Scott startled, the veterinarian smiled at him. “A lot on your mind?”

There was a lot on his mind. Scott couldn’t stop thinking about Stiles and Isaac and how he was supposed to just pretend his revelation about the nature of their relationships was okay. He knew though that he shouldn’t start daydreaming in the middle of the planning session to retrieve Lydia from the other world. He nodded in response. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine. I don’t think we can be any more prepared than we are right now. I just want to remind you that all we’ve come up with is speculation. No one to which we have access has heard of anything like this happening. We are working in the dark here.”

“I trust Lydia. I understand that you have tried your best, so don’t worry about it. Thanks.” Scott trailed off. He frowned. Deaton must have realized that something was wrong, so he simply waited patiently.

“What should I call you?” Scott asked. “What did Talia call you?”

Deaton must have understood where the question came from. “Talia called me Alan, but there is no formal etiquette.” 

Scott watched him; Deaton had always been a hard one to read. “We’ve never really talked about this … Doc. You are my emissary, aren’t you? But you didn’t want to be.”

Deaton nodded. “You’re correct.”

“Why didn’t you want to be?” Scott asked. “If you don’t want to tell me that is okay.” 

“No. I can explain. I think it will be helpful for what you are going through right now with Stiles.” Deaton pulled up a chair to sit down. He never did that, so Scott steeled himself for what was to come. “Isaac told me about what happened.”

Scott shrugged. Considering that he had stopped talking to Isaac on the car ride home, he couldn’t blame him.

“You have managed the relationship between me and your pack differently than how Talia chose to do so. The junior members of the Hale pack didn’t know me as their emissary. Talia felt that sometimes packs would limit their contact with humanity by acting only through their emissaries, and she wanted them to feel they could become friends with normal humans. If you feel uncomfortable with how we have done it so far …”

“No! No. They need to be able to go to people with the answers when I don’t have them.”

Deaton inclined his head in acceptance. “Do you remember when you broke that jar in the workroom of the clinic?”

“Entropy.” Scott had thought of that more than once in the last few days. “I know it happens, but …”

“I used that to explain to you that it is the nature of things to change. I never implied that you had to be happy about it. There are many things we must do in our lives that leave us unhappy.” Deaton explained. “I never wanted to be your emissary.”

Scott didn’t know what to say that, so he didn’t say anything. Deaton continued with that same patient tone.

“An emissary’s purpose is to provide advice to his alpha, and the best advice is always objective advice. To provide alternatives to action, fully explained, without allowing the emissary’s own desires to color those options. An emissary should strive to influence their alpha to make positive decisions without manipulating the alpha into agreeing with them. This objectivity, this reticence, allows an alpha to trust their emissary implicitly.”

“That doesn’t sound that bad,” Scott argued. “I trust you implicitly.”

“Thank you. To maintain objectivity is not an easy task, because ultimately, an emissary must resist the urge to act to protect their alpha from the alpha’s own decisions. An emissary must be ready to allow their alpha to die if the alpha thinks that a particular action is necessary.” Deaton continued. “I never wanted to be put into a position again where I had to let my alpha make a decision that would lead to their death.”

“Again?”

“Remember how Lydia explained Peter’s tirade to Meredith? While Peter was unstable and manic when they were in the hospital, there was a lot of truth to what he said. Peter had argued to Talia that a pre-emptive strike against the Argents was necessary to protect the Hales. It was no doubt part of the reason for Peter’s destructive vendetta. There is no agony quite like being right and having no one listen.”

Scott paled. He didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t help think of Stiles’ warning about Theo. He wanted to protest that he had listened; he just hadn’t agreed.

“No one else knows this, but I agreed with him. I argued that Talia should plot Gerard’s death.” Deaton nodded to reinforce that statement. “I know that won’t sit well with you, but I knew what Gerard had done to Deucalion. I knew what he was willing to do in defiance of the Code that he didn’t believe in. A werewolf pack could tolerate a hunter like Chris, but not his father.” 

“Talia made her decision, and, because I wanted to be a good emissary, I supported it. I helped make sure that Peter did not act according to his convictions. It is what a good emissary would do. It was of no comfort that I was a good emissary when the fire happened. It was then that I decided to ‘retire.’”

Scott was trying to understand Deaton’s point. “But you didn’t really retire, did you? But you didn’t really become Derek’s emissary either.”

“Ahhh,” Deaton sighed. “That is true. I did not become Derek’s emissary for two reasons. One reason I considered a good reason, and one reason I consider shameful.” 

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I think I should. The good reason was a promise I made to Talia; she had no idea that Derek would become an alpha. I promised her I would look after him and protect him.”

“But if you were his emissary, you would have to be objective. You would have to let him do things that were dangerous, which Derek always felt he had to do.” Scott was beginning to see the point of this. 

“The shameful reason was …” Deaton hesitated. “Everyone has a mind and a heart. They are not always in harmony.” 

“I said you didn’t have to tell me. We’ve all made mistakes.”

“I think it is important that you know,” the veterinarian responded. “I knew that Kate was the responsible party; she manipulated a teenager. I knew that Derek was failing as an alpha because he was desperately trying to make up for an event that was neither his fault nor one he could fix. Survivor’s guilt is one of the most powerful forces when it comes to warping a person’s perceptions. As an emissary, I could have and would have tried to help him move past his guilt.” 

“You knew about Kate? Why didn’t you tell Laura?”

“Unlike the police, I had access to information they did not. Unlike Laura, my primary responsibility wasn’t protecting the sole remaining Hales, so I could remain in Beacon Hills. It took me a few weeks, but I figured out what had happened by talking to Derek’s human friends and inspecting the ruins of the house.” Deaton explained. 

“I wasn’t Laura’s emissary, so I didn’t tell Laura, because she was a young alpha who had responsibility for a brother who was no doubt paralyzed with guilt. I made the decision that I think Talia would have wanted me to make; she would have wanted them to be kept safe.” Deaton did not sound apologetic. “I still think it was the right decision. My shame is not about not telling her but about my reluctance to be Derek’s emissary.”

“You blamed him for the fire.” Scott guessed.

“Even though I understood that it was not his fault. The mind and the heart are not always in harmony.”

Scott thought about what Deaton had said. “So when I became an alpha …”

“I did not wish to become your emissary because I didn’t want to be placed in that position again. I cared for Talia. I care for you. I didn’t want to have to support you in a decision that would result in your death.” 

“But you haven’t done that.”

“Haven’t I? You made the decision to protect Satomi’s pack and the other supernatural targets during the dead pool. I disagreed with you then, but I accepted your decision.” Deaton said. “The point is that what I wanted our relationship to be is not what it is now. I wanted to protect you, and now I am your emissary, with all the limitations and duties that requires.” 

Scott finally caught on to what Deaton was trying to tell him. 

“The herbs in the broken jar have changed shape, Scott, but they are still the same herbs. Just because we have to be different towards each other doesn’t mean I don’t care for you.” Deaton nodded. “The same goes for Stiles. Even though your relationship has changed, even though it might not be as close as it once was, what was inside is still inside.” 

Scott smiled. “For someone who has to be objective, you do a pretty good job at cheering a person up. You know, after you told me about the alpha thing, I remember you giving Stiles the mountain ash at the rave. I kinda thought you wanted him to be my emissary.” 

“That was the plan, yes.” Deaton admitted. “I believe, though, that Stiles himself figured out was I intending to do and decided he wanted nothing to do with it.”

Scott gave him the inquisitive eyebrow. He knew that Stiles could sometimes feel inadequate when he really wasn’t. 

“Even though we never actually had the same talk I just had with you, Stiles is very perceptive. I am sure he figured out some of the realities of being an emissary. He would never permit limitations on what he could do to save those he cared about. It was his decision.”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Thanks, Doc. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Will you be there tomorrow night for the full moon?”

“Of course. I would love to have a chance to see Lydia again.”

******

That night Chris came and got him as he was watching television with Isaac and his mom. Scott was actually enjoying Game of Thrones, but since he hadn’t been able to watch the first season or so, he was driving Isaac up the wall asking questions. Eventually, he just started playing dumb and asking questions for the exasperated sighs he was generating from Isaac. His mom kept punching his arm and trying not to laugh.

It was Malia on a video chat program. Scott felt a smile burst on his face when he saw her because she looked – good. She didn’t look like she was scared or sad or frustrated.

She was happy to see him, too. “Great! You’re awake!” 

“I am. It’s good to see you. Where are you?” 

“Tela! It’s hot here.” She kept smiling. “When I heard that you were awake from Derek, I couldn’t believe it. How quickly do you want me back?”

Scott didn’t show it, but her asking that immediately left him warm. “Whenever you can, if you really want to. I know you have a lot on your plate dealing with your mother, and it’s not going to be much easier back here.”

“Oh, fuck my mother. I didn’t leave Beacon Hills to go after my mother. I left Beacon Hills because I had brought my mother there.” She shakes her head. “I wanted revenge, and I was putting everyone in danger to get it. You and Lydia were hurt and in the hospital, Kira was gone, Liam had vanished, the sheriff was dead and the only thing that I could do was get people hurt fighting my mother. So I left. “

Scott noticed that she didn’t mention Stiles at all and he doubted that it was an oversight. “Are you any closer to … doing whatever it is you are going to do with her?” He suspected that Malia was contemplating killing her mother and, in fact, the confrontation between Braden, Malia, and Theo versus the Desert Wolf was indeed for that purpose.

“Not really. She’s good at her job, and one of the things that makes her good at her job is she doesn’t act unless she ‘controls the battlefield.’ Braeden taught me that. Here, with Braeden and Derek, she doesn’t have the advantage, so she is staying away. She might come back if she hears I’m back in Beacon Hills.”

“Then we’ll make sure she doesn’t hear about it, okay? I want to say thank you for rescuing Doc.”

Malia shrugged but he could tell she was happy. “Not a problem. He’s a nice guy, and I know how important he is to you.” 

Scott kept smiling, but then he talked about what he knew about their other pack members and the Beast. He outlined his steps for recovering Lydia, Liam, and Stiles. He gave the bad news about Kira, but also told Malia about Isaac. He also asked about Mason. 

“Before I left, I told him to be careful. I didn’t know then that Theo had Liam; I thought he had just run away out of guilt. I get to kick his ass when I get back, right?” 

“I’m hoping we don’t have to fight him, but I’m sure they’ll be plenty of ass to kick, Malia.” He said ruefully. “And don’t worry about missing Liam. It was a rough time for all of us. Only thing that matters is what we do now.” 

Scott meant what he said. The only way he felt he could go forward is if he focused on going forward. 

“I don’t think I can be there before the full moon, Scott; I’m sorry.” Scott hears Braeden in the background talking about flights. “I can get home before you move against Theo though.”

“You don’t have to rush; can you afford that?” 

“Of course, I do. We’re pack. And as Braeden loves to point out – Derek is very rich. He already said he didn’t mind buying the tickets.” 

“Tickets?” Scott swallowed the hope that had blossomed in his chest. 

“Derek and Braeden are coming with me …” He couldn’t make out something in the background, but it sounded like Derek’s voice. “Derek reminds me to ask you officially if you would allow him to return.”

Scott loved it when Derek insisted on following werewolf etiquette. “He doesn’t have to ask. I owe him that much; tell them that they are welcome any time.” He scratched his head. Where would he hide them so the beast didn’t find them, because he was pretty damn sure that Gerard and Derek under the same roof would be uncomfortable – for an extremely short period?

“Then it’s settled. We’ll probably arrive on the morning of the night where you go kick Theo’s ass. I’m all in!” She frowned for a moment. “I’m sorry to hear about Kira.”

“She’s doing what she has to, and I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that. So ….” Scott felt uncomfortable. He still had some conflicting feelings about Kira. He wanted to segue into Stiles. 

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Malia sighed and then rolled her eyes. “I guess that’s not right, I do want to talk about him, but I don’t know what to say. We broke up.”

“I’m sorry to hear about that. I didn’t know, but when neither you nor he mentioned each other.” 

“I didn’t understand,” Malia complained. “He was just so frustrating. I guessed the truth about Donovan, but I didn’t say anything to him and I didn’t let it bother me. I thought girlfriends were supposed to be supportive, and I know he doesn’t like to talk about himself. But then he gets angry with me because I _didn’t_ judge him, which confused me, but not as much as when I learned that he got really angry with you because you _did_ judge him. I don’t get how you can want two contradictory things at the same time.” 

“When I came to talk to him after he was arrested, he didn’t want to say anything to me. He was really rude. So I left.” Malia seemed angry, but she wasn’t hateful. “I was pretty angry at him for a bit until I talked to Derek.”

Scott nodded, but the thought of Derek offering relationship advice was equal parts amusing and terrifying. 

“Once I explained to him what happened, he told me that there wasn’t really anything we could have done that wouldn’t have gotten him angry. Stiles felt so guilty that he wanted to push people away, so he found a way to do it.” Malia’s tone indicated that she really didn’t appreciate it, but she wasn’t going to let it bother her. “He also said ‘imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.’”

Scott swallowed. “Thanks. You won’t have any problem working with him, will you?”

Malia shook her head. “Oh, no. He’s still pack, even if he is a jackass.”

“Thanks. Would you ask Derek if he would want to talk to me? And say hello to Braeden for me?” 

Scott waited patiently for Malia to see if Derek wanted to talk to him. He bit his lower lip. What he had to say next had to be done right. He didn’t want to screw up the positive relationship he had finally earned with Derek.

The older werewolf looked really happy and content, like his life away from Beacon Hills was so much better. Scott guessed he couldn’t blame him. 

“Hello. I’m glad to see you up and about.” Derek sounded genuinely glad to see him.

“Thanks.” Scott didn’t say anything stupid like he was glad as well. For some reason, now that he was awake he really wanted to impress Derek. “Look, I don’t want to sound like I don’t want you to come back, because I do. I just don’t want you to feel obligated to come back. You’ve done more than enough for us.”

“I wouldn’t say I’ve done more than enough,” Derek laughed. “I’d always come back to help you. I’d come back to help all of you. I would have come back earlier, once I heard what was going on, but it was Chris’s opinion that I should wait. I think he just didn’t want me to meet Gerard.”

“I didn’t want to meet Gerard, but there’s no doubt he knows a lot about the Beast.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I have to say, I’m glad you’re coming. I trust Chris, but neither of us trust his father. Another person in my corner would help me sleep better.”

“Scott.” Derek hesitated before continuing. “Malia told me what happened before she left. You can’t blame yourself for all of this.”

Scott shook his head. “Derek … you know better than that. Even if none of it was my fault – and some of it was completely my fault – I can still blame myself for it. It comes with the title.”

“Well, I thought I would try,” The former alpha offered a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, though. We’ll get through this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tela is a city in Honduras. I've never been there, but I'm told it's a wonderful place.


	12. That Monthly Changes in Her Circled Orb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the full moon, Scott and his allies mount a rescue attempt to free Lydia from the other world. An unexpected presence complicates matters.

Scott stared down at the tree stump in the middle of the forest; in a way, it looked so normal. If some boy who had no idea of the things that lived in the darkness had walked by it, they might have thought it would have been great place to have a picnic. Scott had only been here before twice. The first time was the night he was bitten; he had not remembered seeing the cut-down tree that night. The second time was when he had pulled his family out of the destroyed root cellar. He hadn’t come back to this place after that, and he didn’t need to wonder why he hadn’t.

He had never wanted to be a werewolf and he had never wanted to be an alpha. When he had realized the first time he saw the Nemeton and knew what it was, when he realized that the tattoo on his arm linked him to its rings – a tree’s rings were a record of its history – he had been in awe but there had also been a strong current of resentment coursing through him. The ‘coincidence’ implied that Nemeton had chosen him, which meant that he had never had any choice on the matter. He was always going to become a werewolf; he was always going to make that sacrifice and become a guardian.

He resented it because Scott knew that if presented with the same situation he would make the same sacrifice again. He believed that Allison and Stiles would have as well. Though it may seem small, the area bound by the telluric currents in Beacon Hills was vast. Even with werewolves’ heightened senses, even with Mr. Argent’s mini-emitter, they believed it would have been sheer luck if they had found the Nemeton before Jennifer made her move, but then again, they thought the ritual would take minutes, not sixteen hours. The price still had to be paid, no matter how much the consequences sucked. _Caveat emptor._

Now that Scott understood the principle that both Derek and Deaton had tried to teach him – that the universe tended to balance things out – he felt that he understood why the idea about the tattoo had come to him and maybe he didn’t resent it as much. Maybe he was delusional, but he believed that in return for the random, stupid chance that Peter Hale would find him in the middle of the woods at night, the universe had given him a gift. It had given him a purpose. He had to admit that it was a gift, even if he hadn’t wanted it; how many people lived their entire lives and never found anything beyond their petty wants to live for? 

Deaton had explained that Beacon Hills had always been an important location, due to the fact that so many telluric currents intersected with each other here. He called it an axis mundi. Once, Beacon Hills had been protected by two forces: the Hale family and the Nemeton. The Nemeton had kept the confluence of currents stable; the Hale family had kept those of ill intent away from both the sacred tree and the people of the city. It had been quiet for a long time.

Then the Nemeton had been cut down by people unknown, though Scott had a suspicion that he was sharing a house with a man who was at least partially responsible. The Hales had been decimated, and he knew who was responsible for that. After so many horrible things had happened, a regression to the mean was inevitable, and the universe had decided to try to balance the tragedy with him. Scott always knew that he had had the choice to reject the path, from the moment he heard about being a True Alpha from Deaton, but he had also knew what the price of making such a selfish decision would have been. He hadn’t wanted to pay for his freedom with the blood of others.

He looked up from his contemplation of the Nemeton to see Deaton staring at him. “The moon won’t be at its culmination for another ten minutes. Are you ready?” Scott had thought that it would need to be the moon’s zenith, but Deaton had explained that a zenith was when the moon is directly overhead. The highest point in the sky was actually its culmination.

“I have faith that Lydia knows what she is doing.” Scott glanced up at the moon. He could feel it, even now. “The only thing that worries me is the price.”

“I cannot suggest much of anything about what that price could be; this is unprecedented. Lydia is not dead, and there is much I don’t know about banshees.”

“It doesn’t matter; I’ll pay it.” Scott bounced from one foot to another in agitated anticipation. “Your preparations are done?”

“I’ve done everything I know to weaken the barrier between worlds,” Deaton assured him. “Other than …”

“You and your ice baths.” It was a joke, and Deaton, who seldom laughed, did smile at it. Scott sighed. “Full moons are terrible for being patient.”

Scott turned over to the edge of the clearing, where his mother was setting up her medical supplies. She had insisted on coming, even though the last thing Scott ever wanted was his mom anywhere close to stuff like this. He glanced over to where Chris was surveying the area. Isaac was carrying extra supplies back to the vehicles. They didn’t want to let things get in the way if the whole ritual went bottoms up.

Scott clapped Deaton on the shoulder in thanks and then went over to Chris. “Hey.” He would never give the hunter an order. “Could you do me a favor?”

Chris raised his eyebrows. It was the only response he is going to get.

“I know we don’t expect trouble, but we never do, and it seems to show up anyway. If you don’t mind, would you stick next to my mom?” He lowered his voice. “I couldn’t tell her ‘no, you can’t come’, but I don’t like her involved in something like this.”

Chris smiled at him as if to say silently that he didn’t need to ask. The hunter was about to open his mouth to say something that was probably reassuring when his eyes slide towards the tree line.

Scott sensed something as well and focused his senses there. The scent hit him long before the figure emerged from the underbrush. “What the hell is _he_ doing here?” 

Peter Hale emerged from deeper within the forest. He did not move like he was trying to hide. In fact, he was walking steadily and directly towards the Nemeton. His clothing wasn’t really appropriate for a stroll through the woods: a white silk shirt, dress slacks, and patent-leather shoes, the latter of which was completely ruined by the terrain.

Chris and Scott tensed; this was the first time that they had come face to face with Peter since La Iglesia. “I thought he died in the collapse of Eichen?” hissed Scott.

Chris Argent shrugged as he unlimbered his gun and readied a shot. His voice was unimpressed. “Looks like he didn’t. Or maybe he did. With Peter, who can tell?”

Scott put up his hand to stop Chris and all the others. He realized something was wrong; Peter was ignoring the hunter’s readying of his weaponry. “Peter, what are you doing here?”

Peter did not reply but kept walking straight towards the Nemeton. Scott motioned for Chris to stay back as he approached the werewolf who bit him. Peter was obviously in a trance of some sort; he didn’t even react to Scott’s presence, let alone his voice. He came to rest in front of the sacred tree’s stump, studying it.

“Doc,” asked Scott carefully. “He looks hypnotized. Any ideas?”

“I would agree with you,” Deaton said. It was unhelpful, but Scott had learned long ago that Deaton’s enigmatic nature was only partially a result of his past. He also hated to be wrong. “I have a speculation, if you would like to hear it.”

Everyone was seriously freaked out by this. “It couldn’t hurt.”

“Peter established a connection to Lydia that allowed him to control her from beyond the grave. It may be that this connection still exists, but now it is being used to control him. Such things, once established, are not easily broken, and as far as I know, neither of them has undergone a ritual to sever that connection. It would leave them both open to further influence.” 

Scott couldn’t help but smile. “Screwing him over like this? That is exactly Lydia’s style. I’m going to let him do what he is doing, but Mr. Argent, if you and Isaac would keep an eye on him?”

While Chris and Isaac figured out a new plan where they could keep a gun trained on Peter at all times and still keep an eye out for other interlopers, Scott walked around the Nemeton’s stump, waiting for the last few minutes to pass. Deaton was talking to Melissa, who was asking about connections between alpha wolves and those they bit. 

Scott wouldn’t look at Peter. He needed to keep his mind focused on one problem at a time, but the memory of Peter’s appearance in his ‘spirit walking’ kept creeping onto the edge of his consciousness. He also kept coming back to the idea that he didn’t know what to do with Peter once he did get Lydia back. There wasn’t an Eichen House to keep him in any more.

Finally, Deaton cleared his throat. “Stand ready, Scott. The moon is approaching its culmination. You can start any time.”

Without any warning, Peter extended one set of claws and raked his own arm though the silk shirt, ruining it. He held out the arm, and before the wounds could close, blood dripped from him to the top of the Nemeton. Those watching were fascinated. 

It became even more fascinating when the little bit of blood that Peter had shed onto the Nemeton didn’t slide away into the cracks or off the edge, but begin to pool. Soon blood covered the stump completely, even filling in the cracks. The blood must have been increasing, because there was far more than there should have been from Peter’s wounds. It was serious magic and Deaton had his ‘wow’ face on. “I think you should do what you are planning to do now, Scott.”

Scott nodded in response, swallowed his nervousness, and stepped forward. Blood would get over him, but this wouldn’t be the first time he had been covered in it. Deaton and he had talked about what Lydia might have meant in their brief conversation. They had decided that she trusted him to remember the last time the Nemeton had played a role in trying to find a lost member of the pack, when they had freed Stiles from the nogitsune’s control. He climbed up onto the stump, careful not to slip on the blood, and raised his eyes the moon. Always, the white sphere pulled at him, but he had learned how to counter it, to keep the boiling of his blood at bay. Now, he let it happen; he let it pull at him. He needed to be at his strongest.

As power and the accompanying emotions surged into him, transforming him, he kept focus by repeating a specific thought: Lydia. Lydia. Lydia. He had to get Lydia back. He tapped into the instinct to protect his pack. He focused on her face, her scent, and, bashfully, the faint memory of her lips against his. He focused on her confidence, her intelligence, and her wit. He remembered how she had changed from a manipulative queen bee into someone who used her gifts to help others without expectation. He remembered how terrified she had once been of death and now she fought against its coming with every fiber of her being. Under the moon’s pull he recalled how his heart had trembled when he thought that she had died. He needed her back.

So, he howled. The roar of an alpha summoning its pack is intimidating at any time – magnified by the moon and empowered by the Nemeton, the very trees surrounding them shook to their roots. Scott only hoped that it was loud enough for what he hoped would happen, loud enough to open a doorway for Lydia to return to their world, just as Parrish’s flames had burned a path out of it.

Suddenly, he could feel the trunk of the tree vibrating. He watched the layer of blood on top shaking like there was an earthquake. He leapt off the top of the trunk, even as Peter awoke from his trance and scrambled backwards. 

The low vibration shook the tree’s roots, but soon it became audible to the werewolves. It was a scream, Lydia’s scream, building in volume and pitch until it was nearly bursting out of the ground. Scott could swear his ears would start to bleed after a few more minutes of it while Peter and Isaac were already grinding the palms of their hands into their ears. The humans could hear it now as well, but they didn’t focus too much on it.

They were focused instead on the human hand thrusting up from the top of the Nemeton, covered in blood. It placed its flat on the surface being joined by another hand. Arms followed and the hands scrabbled for purchase on the trunk, trying to push the body up. A woman, covered in blood, was pulling herself out of the sacred tree, screaming. 

For just a moment, Lydia was silhouetted by the full moon, a figure of blood and terror crossing the boundaries between the worlds of the living and the dead with her bone-aching scream. The scream died, and she was just a high school senior, naked and cold, sitting on the edge of an old stump. 

“That’s it,” she said. “I definitely need a spa day.”

Scott rushed forward and caught her up in his arms. “You’re okay!” He was so relieved. “You’re back. I’ve missed you so much.” 

“That’s so kind of you, McCall, but right now I’m very naked and covered with blood. I hope you brought something for me to wear?” She sounded so put out, but he was just so happy to listen to her. Scott started guiding her to where his mother had blankets and medical supplies. Lydia’s eye caught Peter shaking himself back to wakefulness. “Don’t think that this makes us even, Peter. You’d best find a way to disconnect us, or I’ll show you just how much I’ve learned over the last five months.”

Peter never liked to be caught by surprise or flat-footed. He always retreated into snark when he could. “You can believe me that I certainly intend to find a solution for this. This shirt was one of my favorites; do you understand how hard it is to get blood out of silk?”

Lydia sniffed at him as if to say _of course I know how hard it is_. Scott, however, wasn’t in any mood now that Lydia was safe to spar verbally with him. “Stay right where you are, Peter. You and I are going to have a talk. If you try to leave before that, Mr. Argent or Isaac or both of them will shoot you.” 

Peter raised his hands in mock surrender. He did eye Argent warily. 

His mom soon shooed him away from hovering over Lydia. He was getting in the way of her and Deaton checking Lydia out. His mom was giving her as thorough a medical examination as she could out in the field while Deaton was making sure she was supernaturally stable. Scott decided to talk to Peter while everyone was focused on the returned banshee. 

Scott walked up to him and said in a low voice. “Are you going to come with me, or am I going to have drag you somewhere?”

Peter was surprised by that, but he covered quickly. “You want to talk to me by myself? Are you sure you don’t want to bring your bodyguards?”

Scott shook his head. “I don’t need them with you, do I? Mexico proved that. You also won’t start something unless you have a plan, and given that you didn’t even intend to be here tonight, you don’t have one. So I think you can survive a small conversation with me.” 

Peter didn’t argue as they walked off into the preserve. When they had gotten far enough not to be casually overheard, the former alpha smirked. “You know, my intention was to let all of you think I had died in the collapse of Eichen House.”

“Yeah.” Scott answered. They hadn’t found the body, but they had believed that if he was still alive, Peter’s ego couldn’t help but reveal him. “I figured.”

“In the words of the immortal cartoon, I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for a meddling banshee.” Peter played with his ruined sleeve. “So, not saying this hasn’t been fun – because it hasn’t – why the personal chit-chat? Are you trying to decide what hellhole to put me in next?”

Scott frowned in concentration; he hated talking to Peter, for a number of reasons. First, Peter was simply better at talking than he was. There was no shame in it, but the longer a conversation went on, the more chance that Peter would take advantage. Second, Scott just didn’t fucking like him. “No. I’m not. I’m not going to apologize for putting you in Eichen House, either.” They had no need to go over this ground. “You’ll get out of my territory as soon as possible, though.”

“Is it really your territory, Scott?” Peter smirked. “Don’t worry about me sticking around. I’ve no interest in tangling with the Beast of Gevaudan. I’m not a fan of suicide. But all of this could have taken place with your allies present. What do you want to ask me that they can’t hear?”

Scott took a deep breath. He was going to try to play Peter, and he was nearly eighty-per-cent sure it wasn’t going to work. He tried to make his voice sound as young and as whiny as he could. “You haven’t been dreaming about me, have you?”

Peter sneered and answered in a tone that dripped in sarcasm. “If you think you occupy that big a space in my faults, you are as narcissistically deluded as ever.” Scott listened to his heartbeat – he wasn’t lying. Scott made the mistake of relaxing in relief. 

“Ahhhh.” Peter’s eyes lit up. Scott cursed, because he knew in a part of his brain that the asshole could catch on. Peter always had a sharp nose for weakness. “But I think you’ve been dreaming about me. Interesting. Exactly what have you been up to in the months I’ve been making myself scarce?”

“You know I’m not going to tell you that.” Scott didn’t want to give him any more ammunition, but he wasn’t reassured by knowing that Peter hadn’t actually been in his dreams. But then why was Peter sometimes present when he was Spirit Walking?

Peter has that fully sincere mask on. “Of course not. I wouldn’t want to pry.” 

Scott snarled to his own surprise. “Just get lost, Peter. You aren’t welcome here. I’ll let you go tonight because Lydia brought you here against your will. If you need to contact her in any way, you’ll do it by phone. Understood?”

“Of course, Alpha McCall.” Peter’s interest was obvious. Scott knew that now he had to worry about this asshole. “If I may leave?”

“We have to get Lydia back to safety anyway.” Scott promised. He turned his back, deliberately. He needed to let Peter know that he wasn’t afraid of him. But he could smell Peter and he could hear his heartbeat.

Peter wasn’t afraid of him, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I've chosen to ignore the trailers and teasers for Season 6.


	13. For Naught so Vile That on the Earth Doth Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott contemplates the return of Peter and Lydia to his life. Stiles delivers a timely warning. The Beast of Gevaudan makes its presence felt in a terrible tragedy.

Scott eventually turned to walk back towards the Nemeton’s clearing. While he was glad it wasn’t actually Peter invading his mind while he was spirit-walking, the discovery still left him with nagging questions. If it wasn’t Peter stalking him, then who was it? Was it his own mind supplying Peter’s voice? And, now that Scott had handled the confrontation so clumsily, what would Peter do with this knowledge? 

Scott abandoned his thoughts and stopped moving through the trees when he realized that someone else was there. Someone else must have been watching the whole exchange with Peter. “Isaac?” He guessed. When did his friend get so good at hiding? 

“Yeah.” Isaac stepped from around the tree, looking embarrassed. “What gave me away?”

“Your heartbeat. Why were you following me?” Scott didn’t feel angry, but he did feel mildly chagrinned. He had wanted the conversation to be private, but it was fine if it was just Isaac. He would have told him about the discussion and about his fears. Eventually.

“Because it looked like you wanted to talk to Peter alone, but I didn’t want you to be alone with Peter.” His beta’s tone was defiant and a confession at the same time. “How many times has he tried to kill you?”

“Actually, he only tried to kill me once.” Scott responded gently. It wasn’t a very good argument. “I could have taken him if it came to that, but he only fights when he’s not ready if he’s been cornered.” 

“Or he could have gotten lucky and killed you.” Isaac shot back. “All we want … all I want is for you to be more careful.”

“Okay. “ Scott shrugged off the concern. “I understand why you’d want that, but I’m feeling completely back to my old self. You have to understand that I’m going to need to do some things alone.”

“Talking to a crazy undead werewolf is not one of them.” Isaac’s tone was snarky, but there was an undercurrent of anger beneath it. 

“Did you hear what we talked about?” Scott tried to change the topic, to smooth away the anger, which he had to admit, wasn’t entirely unjustified. He did conceal his intentions from people who he was supposed to be working with, but only because he was afraid that Peter had been visiting him, that he had been influencing him. 

“Yes. You’ve been dreaming of Peter?” 

“No. No. But I hear his voice sometimes when I spirit walk.” He had explained to everyone that the Skinwalkers had taught him what it was. “I don’t know what that means.”

Isaac stared at him for what seemed like minutes but it was only seconds, and then he fell in step with him, just to his side. “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I hope so.” Scott didn’t believe it. 

They arrive back at the Nemeton clearing. Everyone has packed up their gear and was ready to retreat to Deaton’s home. His mother looked at him to see if he was okay. He nodded and smiled at her to reassure her. Deaton and Chris had retrieved a stretcher for Lydia, who was looking pale and wan. Scott moved over to Deaton and expressed his concern.

“As with Peter, such things have a price. She’ll be physically and supernaturally weak for some time,” Deaton advised. “But she is in no danger.”

“Medically, she’s just exhausted,” his mother added. “And she’s going to be uncoordinated for a few days. She has to relearn how to walk.” 

Scott understood that to mean it is just a matter of time, before she was back to being Lydia. “She’ll have all the time she needs.”

Chris was a little more serious in his questions. “You let Peter go?”

Scott took a deep breath before answering; exerting authority was difficult for him. He did not like it, but he knew he had to start doing it more often. “We don’t have time to worry about him right now. There are more important things that need to be done. But I told him he isn’t welcome in my territory. He doesn’t have my protection or the protection of my pack.” Chris and he locked eyes. The hunter knew exactly what he is saying: there would not be retaliation from the McCall pack if hunters came for Peter. 

Scott felt four pairs of eyes on him; it was a departure from how he used to operate. “Yes, this is my territory. I’m not going to let Theo steal it, and I’m not going to let La Bête scare me away. The safety of my pack, my friends, my family, and everyone in Beacon Hills is my responsibility, but I have to draw the line somewhere.” He looked at his mother. “Peter had his chance, so he’s on his own. He thinks he’s the better werewolf? Now is his chance to prove it. Let’s get Lydia home.”

No one argued with him, but he could tell that while no one disagreed with him, his mother and Deaton were sad. They knew that with those words the person who would have saved _everyone_ was gone. Isaac fidgeted nervously, but he could tell Chris was impressed. 

Scott, on the other hand, was sick to his stomach. He pushed it aside and drove home. 

They put Lydia in Isaac’s room. Deaton’s house was getting full, but the veterinarian seemed undisturbed by it when Scott tried to apologize. “To tell you the truth, everyone but Gerard has been a pleasure to host. I should do this more often. I can set something up for Isaac in the den.” 

“No need.” Scott went for nonchalance. “We can share a room.”

Deaton, being Deaton, gave no more of a reaction than if Scott had asked for a pastrami sandwich. He simply continued making sure Lydia was comfortable.

Scott sat down on her bed, and she opened her eyes. “I didn’t think I’d be this out of it,” she complained. “You didn’t need an invalid.”

“I need you, no matter what.” Scott smiled at her. “And I’ll always need Lydia Martin, so right now, you need to focus on getting better. You know, I’m really happy that I get to say that to you, rather than people telling me that all the time. I love it.”

She offered a weak smile back. “I can barely hear. It might be some time before I can help. It’s like someone filled my ears with cotton balls.”

“Lydia, you could be drunk and quadriplegic and you would still be a help to me.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. He had been going to ask about her warning to him, but he did not want to stress her in this state. “You rest up. “

“Where’s Stiles?” She suddenly asked, looking around the room. “I didn’t see him when I came through. Is he okay?”

Scott felt a lump rising in his throat. He debated saying anything about him, because she still needed her rest. “Stiles is okay. He’s gone through a rough patch, but we’ll help him. I’m working on getting him back.” 

Lydia was too tired to do more than stare at him, with just a hint of her wit. “That sounds like you lost him?”

“We lost each other, but that is going to be fixed, as soon as I can.” Scott moved on to the rest of the pack. “Malia is coming back tomorrow, with Derek and Braeden. We’re going to rescue Liam from Theo. Kira’s … she’s safe, but she might not be able to be here for a while.”

Lydia looked at him and squeezed his hand as tightly as she could. She was so weak, but she still understood things better than most people. “You aren’t alone.”

“No.” Scott leant down and kissed her forehead. “No, I’m not. You should rest.” 

After leaving Lydia in her room he went downstairs to check on the others. His mother had already gone to bed, and Deaton was closing up the house. The veterinarian went through the house every night; there were defenses here that could keep people he didn’t want out. Scott was grateful. Almost everyone he cared about was under this roof.

Soon, Scott promised himself, everyone he cared about would be back.

He said good night to Deaton but before he went to bed himself, he decided to check on his computer. Ever since Stiles and he had come to some sort of tenuous understanding, Scott had promised to send his friend e-mails and letters telling Stiles what was going on. At first, he had thought that Stiles wouldn’t want to hear about Beacon Hills, especially after what it had cost him. 

Stiles had insisted though. He had claimed boredom, and Scott supposed he couldn’t call him a liar. Jail must be boring. But he knew Stiles well enough that there was something else behind it, but he wasn’t going to be suspicious. He wasn’t going to let everything going on at once erode the trust he once had in his best friend. Not again.

There was a message from Stiles on the laptop, marked _Urgent_. Scott grimaced but opened it up anyway.

**Scott, you’ve misunderstood Theo again. If you threaten his plans, he doesn’t retreat, he escalates. Make sure all your pieces are protected.**

It was unsigned, but Scott could still hear the exasperation in the words. Since both of them knew that the jail could read Stiles’ e-mail at any time, they had decided to write things as if they were discussing an online game about mythical creatures. Scott had to fight down the nostalgia once again. Who would have thought he would long for something during the season of the kanima.

Scott knew he was tired. He had read the message and didn’t think about what it meant, so he refocused. Stiles wouldn’t have sent this unless his instincts had told him that it was important, and given Scott’s history of being snookered by Theo, he wasn’t going to ignore the warning.

“Make sure all my pieces are protected.” He said out loud to the empty room. 

Isaac and Lydia were here, along with Chris, Deaton, and his Mom. They were protected as well as they could be. Malia was with Derek and Braeden; they would look after each other. Liam had been captured; he didn’t think that Theo would kill Liam just to spite him. Kira was safe with the Skinwalkers; if Theo wanted to take them on, that would be okay with Scott. He had no idea where Mason was, and no idea where to look for him, but if he had vanished so completely, he was sure that Theo wouldn’t know where he was either.

All his ‘pieces’ were safe. Pack, friends, family …

“Dad.” He didn’t like his father. His father left and he was an asshole, but he was still his father. Scott had assumed that since no one would want to involve the FBI in the supernatural, his father was essentially safe. But he wasn’t going to disregard Stiles’ warning.

He called his father’s personal cell and got voice mail. He called his old house, where his father was staying, and he got no answer. Scott rushed to Chris’ bedroom and knocked on the door; he wasn’t panicking yet, because he knew it was nearing two in the morning. Chris came out with concern; he hadn’t been asleep yet.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m just going to go into town and check on my father,” Scott answered. “Stiles said something in an e-mail, and … I’ll be right back.”

Chris opened his mouth to protest but then shook his head instead. “Be careful.”

“I will.” He rushed out of his house, grabbing his helmet, and roared off on his motorcycle. He cut across the woods and fields as well as he could, using the bike’s ability to go off road to his advantage. It was the full moon, so he had no problem seeing as he drove.

The night was cool and crisp. Luckily, he needed less sleep than the rest of his allies. He could do a quick check and make sure his father was taking some precautions. It was only a twenty minute trip. He’d be back and in bed with Isaac by three a.m.

His first indication that something wasn’t right was the flash of lights as he pulled onto his street. He knew those the pulsating red and blue indicated police cars. He stopped the bike at a street corner and killed the engine. Pulling off his helmet, he focused his sight and hearing on the house.

His house was a crime scene. He could hear officers moving about, and he could see the cars pulled up in the yard. Three were Beacon Hills Police Department cars, and two were unmarked cars. One of them was his father’s. He didn’t hear anyone talking. He just saw the faintest flashes of light that meant people were taking photographs inside. He could see police line tape over the doors to his house. 

It did not mean anything, he told himself. His father could have not even been home, and people had broken into his house. They could have come in while he was there and he drove them off. There were a thousand reasons that there would be cop cars at his house. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

He knew that whatever happened had happened hours ago. The initial flurry of the investigation had slowed to the long and tedious gathering of evidence. All Scott had to do was be patient and eventually someone there would talk about what was going on. It might take a while.

It had been perhaps fifteen minutes before Scott heard heavy footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see only a single man walking down the street. It was weird, since it was nearing half-past-two, but who was he to talk? He was sitting on a street corner on a motorcycle watching a police investigation – not the best definition of innocent-looking.

The man came to rest a few feet from where he was sitting. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?” He had an accent. 

Scott looked over at him. “Uh. Yeah.” He didn’t want to be rude, but he was trying to listen to the investigation. It was not until like a minute later that he realized that the accent was French. Scott suddenly shifted his senses to the man. 

The man was not surprised by Scott’s double take. “I thought it might be time for us to have a proper introduction, Alpha McCall. That is the proper mode of address, no?” 

Scott knew immediately who he was addressing. Feigning calm, he hung his helmet on the handlebar of his motorcycle and dismounted. “Did you hurt my father?”

Sebastian Valet clucked his tongue. “I was told that you were very young, and I have found that the young people of this century are so terribly impatient. In my youth, we were more content to let things unfold at their own pace.” He offered an insincere smile that was clearly a threat. 

“What do you want?” Scott felt panic raising his heartbeat. He did not bother to hold it down, allowing his furious pulse to push the claws out of his fingers and light out of his eyes. 

If the Beast noticed, he gave no indication. “I have spent the last months getting to know this strange time, young alpha. Do you know that no modern serial killer has reached my tally? My real tally. It is very gratifying. I can’t particularly blame them, however, as the constabulary in this era are far more rigorous and well-equipped. I will have to be particularly careful in my activities from now on. It could be tedious, but I prefer to think of it as challenging. I look forward to resuming the hunt.”

Scott growled. “You kill just to kill? Why?”

“Everyone is good at something, I believe the saying goes. As for killing, I enjoy it. Young people, old people, the just and the unjust, the strong and the weak. I found that if you seek the clearest expression of existence, it is found in ending the existing of another.” His eyes glowed like small stars in their unholy blue. “You should try it some time, since I am told that you have never done so.”

Scott felt a shiver run down his spine. He knew that he was an alpha, but he also knew he wasn’t the best fighter in the world. He could hold his own, but he had no idea how powerful the Beast was. He took a step forward and dropped into a fighting stance. He wished his pack was with him, but he couldn’t let this creature just carry on.

“Ahhhh, determination is a good look on you. Perhaps you will eventually find out the joy of being a killer.” Valet seemed unimpressed though, and he moved on. “However, my young friend, there is a certain type of killing that I would appreciate more than anything else. I wish to kill what remains of my family, whom you know as the Argents. You wouldn’t happen to know where they are, would you?”

“Even if I did,” Scott growled. “I wouldn’t tell you.”

“But of course!” Valet laughed aloud, still entirely unconcerned. “Master Theo told me, when he revealed that you had returned, that your skill is in allegiances, in turning enemies into friends. I have never had much use for that skill myself. The dead are no threat. Right now, I want you to understand that you will give me the Argents, allies or not.” 

Scott sighed. He knew this tactic. “Or you’ll hurt my father.”

“No, no, young master alpha. I’ve already killed your father.” Valet said mockingly.

Scott threw himself at Valet without thought. He drove the monsters back and onto the ground. Valet laughed in his face. “So you do have some strength!” They wrestled on the ground, strength versus strength, until Valet got one foot on Scott’s chest and threw him back into his motorcycle. Scott was on his feet in a moment.

Valet was strong, even in human form. He held up one hand as he got to his feet. “You should stop. If you don’t, I’ll move this fight to your house and well – it won’t go too well for the policemen there.”

“What do you expect me to do?” Scott almost shouted it, but even if what the Beast had said about his father was true, he didn’t want to get bystanders involved.

“I do not expect you to do anything. The best plans, you will find, do not rely on your opponent to act. You see, your father was an important man. His death will bring in the full strength of federal investigators. They will find that I did not use my claws, but a club that you had in the house. I think it was a baseball bat, and I made sure not to overdo the swing. In my study of the modern police, I have learned that investigators look for method, motive, and opportunity. Since they do not know about the supernatural, they’ll have only one suspect.” As he talked, Valet and Scott circled each other.

Scott tried to think of a way he could take the Beast down, but he wasn’t sure he could. Chris had told him of the Beast’s werewolf form, which Valet hadn’t even taken. He let Valet talked while he tried to think of a plan.

“There is only one person who has gotten into public shouting matches with him, no? Only one person who has recently returned to Beacon Hills who could possibly hold a grudge. That would be you. The FBI will find you, and when they do, they’ll find the Argents. And that means _I_ will find the Argents.”

Scott felt his heart quicken even more; this was why The Beast wasn’t going in for the kill. Valet didn’t want to kill Scott until he knew where the Argents were. “I’ll kill you before that happens.”

“Will you now?” Valet smiled. “You are welcome to try at any time.”

Before the fight could start for real, a vehicle pulled around the corner, high beams blaring. Scott reflexively transformed as quickly as he could back into human, and Valet suddenly turned and walked away like nothing was happening. The SUV pulled to a stop. 

It was Chris Argent. “Get in.” He had a pistol but he kept it low so no one could see. “Now’s not the time for this.”


	14. But to the Earth Some Special Good Doth Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott copes with the death of his father at the hands of the Beast, but an overheard conversation could undo all the work he's made so far since he woke up. Gerard, as usual, is an ass.

It did not seem possible that the sun would shine and the birds would on the morning after his father’s death. But they were; it was a beautiful day. A Western tanager serenaded the morning just outside of his window as he lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. 

Scott hadn’t slept at all. He had already drawn the conclusion that everybody would tell him was wrong for him to have drawn: his attempt to bully Theo into giving up Liam had cost his father his life. Theo had told Sebastian Valet that he had returned, and Valet had found a way to turn this information to his advantage. 

He already imagined the arguments that his friends and family would marshal against his guilt. They would argue that his action was not only responsible but it was also good; he had tried to free Liam from Theo and his chimera pack using the least amount of violence. They would say that Sebastian Valet would have discovered his presence here soon or later. They would say that no one could predict that The Beast would risk the wrath of the Federal Bureau of Investigation by killing an agent.

Scott understood that each and every one of these arguments was valid. He understood that when you had responsibilities like he had, he was going to make decisions that his enemies did not appreciate, and they would retaliate against those people he loved. It was a standard villain tactic.

It did not help him sleep one damn bit. 

In a perverse way, he felt even guiltier because he felt that he wasn’t as upset as he should be. He wasn’t weeping. He hadn’t howled or screamed or broken things. He simply had this throbbing ache just behind his jaw coupled with a weird feeling on his mind. The feeling was hard to describe, but he remembered Stiles telling him about phantom limb syndrome, and he imagined it was something like that. He had once loved his dad and then he had come to resent him. He was irritated when his father came around because his father was supposed to love him and he was supposed to love his father, but he did not feel love. He felt a dry, itchy absence where love should have been. Now, that absence was all there ever would be between them – a hole that would never be filled.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t experienced loss before. When Allison had died, he had to ignore the crushing heaviness of it because he had to save Stiles and stop the nogitsune. Sitting in the Sheriff’s office, he had gathered the huge overwhelming mass of sorrow and shoved it somewhere until he could deal with it later, until he had the luxury to confront the terrible thing where it couldn’t hurt anyone else but him. He couldn’t do that this time; every time he tried to grab the weird feeling and manhandle it into somewhere less, it vanished into self-loathing.

It must have reached near ten in the morning, and he had not yet been asleep. He was dirt tired, but every time he closed his eyes last night’s events kept replaying over and over in his mind: Peter, The Beast, his Father. Staring at the ceiling for hours had not given him any insight into what he could have done better, and it ate at him.

When Isaac had come in a little after three a.m., it had calmed him down somewhat. He knew his breathing had eased and his heart had stopped beating as if he were in danger. Scott was sure that Isaac had gotten the story from Chris, for he had, in a small voice, told Chris everything Valet had said on the ride home, his bike lashed to the top of the SUV. Chris had told him to get some sleep, and leave telling the others to him. 

Isaac had been carefully quiet; they hadn’t touched. Isaac hadn’t whispered to him that it wasn’t his fault, for which Scott was perversely grateful. Isaac had said the one thing that he needed to hear. No matter what had passed between him and his father, no matter the gulf that had just begun to heal, Isaac told him that he was always going to feel like he was always responsible in some way for his death. It would never go away, but it wouldn’t always be so painful.

And Isaac would know, wouldn’t he? Scott wondered how many of his friends had lost mothers and fathers. Isaac was an orphan. Stiles was an orphan now. Malia had no real relationship with anyone but her adopted father. He had only his mother now.

Unbidden, a thought came to him, sharp and hard. _Maybe I’ll get her killed next._

Scott couldn’t take these thoughts, so he rolled out of bed kicking the covers to the ground. Isaac had been up for a few hours and left the room; they were obviously going to try to let him get as much sleep as he could. He rubbed at his face as he got dressed. He couldn’t stand to be in this house, in this town anymore. He hadn’t wanted any of this, and he didn’t want any more of this.

He carefully opened the window, and he felt the cool breeze come out of the woods. Scott remembered once again that it was spring. Flowers would start to bloom. It would be near the end of lacrosse season. When was the last time he had thought about something as simple as that?

A leap from a two story window was nothing to someone like him. He landed easily, keys in his hand. He thought about just getting on his bike and leaving, but they might hear him. They might stop him.

He could go away. He knew that. He didn’t know where he would go, but he wasn’t defenseless. He could drive to a city – San Francisco or Los Angeles. He would eventually be omega, but he didn’t care. He stalked towards his motorcycle. He didn’t want to make decisions any more. He didn’t want to make plans. He didn’t want to be responsible when the next person died. 

Because he was responsible. It did not matter that he wasn’t the one who had pulled the trigger or swung the baseball bat. It did not matter that the villain had upped the ante or had gotten lucky. When you were the leader, and you gave the orders, the responsibility for what happened was yours. You couldn’t give orders and then say ‘That’s not what I meant to happen.’

His father was dead. He had not meant for it to happen, but it had happened as a result of a decision he had made. There was no getting around that.

It didn’t take him any effort at all to get his bike ready. He saw that his mother’s car was gone; she had volunteered to drive to San Francisco to pick up Derek, Braeden and Malia. They would come back later this afternoon to find him gone. What would they think? 

They’d make excuses for him, sure. He’d been in a coma. He’d lost his father. He’s lost his pack. But that’s all they would be. Excuses.

“Goddamn it, you’re acting like a child.” He accused himself, and there was no avoiding the fact that the accusation was true. So what that he was upset with the consequences of his decisions? That didn’t mean the decisions didn’t need to be made. Like it or not, he was the alpha. 

Scott looked down the narrow dirt driveway. He could imagine just heading away from this freaking town and not worrying about anything else, but he couldn’t imagine actually doing it. He closed his eyes and headed back toward the house.

Before he got to the front doors, he heard raised voices. Of course, Chris and Gerard were at it again. Scott had believed Chris when he argued that the alliance with Gerard was necessary. Gerard had at least three decades of hunting experience more than Chris, which included not only greater knowledge about the Beast of Gevaudan but also a stronger command of tactics. The Beast had slaughtered dozens of people already; Scott and his allies couldn’t be picky about which people they could choose to ally with. As long as they stopped the Beast from going on its sick rampages, Scott could tolerate the old bastard.

It was Gerard’s statement that made him pause in his approach to the house. “You aren’t doing anyone any favors by protecting Scott from what is going to have to happen, sooner or later.” Gerard’s tone when arguing was always disdainful, as if he couldn’t believe that anyone could be so weak.

“As if you care about anyone else,” Chris shot back. Chris’s voice when dealing with his father always had that undercurrent of _I can’t believe I’m related to you._ “Your impatience doesn’t mean we have to act rashly. He’s only been awake and fully recovered from his coma for a little more than a week. Before we even think of going to him with our ideas, he needs to feel stable. All of us have agreed that this means we help him reestablish at least a semblance of a pack.”

“His father just died,” sneered Gerard. “And while you would most likely be jubilant about my death, do you think this is going to make him more or less stable?”

“I think,” Deaton speaks up, his voice as calm as ever, “that you are underestimating Scott’s resilience. He is stronger than you think.”

“That’s good.” Gerard had a way of taking command of a situation by speaking with authority, even when he didn’t have any. Scott was sure that was how he kept someone like Chris, with his convictions, in line. The old man just never let anyone else have the opportunity to make a different decision. “Because we need that, and we need that right now. We can’t find the Pike, and we’ve lost the Hellhound. Last night, the Beast revealed that he is ready to make his move. If we are going to have a chance of destroying him, we need to be ready to move as soon as possible. And that means no more hiding things from our most powerful asset.”

Chris gritted his teeth and that tension entered his voice. “He’s not an asset; he’s an eighteen-year-old boy who’s been a werewolf for a little over two years and has had little to no formal training in combat or leadership.”

“Chris, you had plenty of time to correct that,” Gerard scolded. “You could have taken him in hand like you did with Isaac here. You knew what their ridiculous sacrifice was going to cause, but you yet your guilt make your decisions for you. We just have to deal with it now. Luckily, he seems to have some natural talent for dealing with enemies.”

“Enemies like you,” Isaac’s addition was surly.

“Exactly.” You had to give the old man credit: he never pretended that the past hadn’t happened. “Thank you for making my point for me, Isaac. I’m glad you’re capable of contributing at least a little bit, since you’ve failed so spectacularly at the mission you were given.”

Scott screwed up his face at Isaac’s surprised grunt.

Chris interceded immediately. “That’s not true. Isaac …”

“Isaac was supposed to keep watch over Scott until we could determine the long-term side effects of his coma. How many times has Scott slipped away from his surveillance? Maybe if the boy focused on doing his job rather than trying to get into someone’s pants, he would have done better.”

It took Scott a few moments to process what he just heard. When he had, it felt like he had gotten hit in the face with a brick. Isaac’s mission was to keep watch over him?

“This is the first I am hearing of this,” Deaton tone indicated severe dislike of what he was hearing. “Did you really think that was necessary?”

Before any of the Argents could answer him, Scott threw open the door. In the back of his mind, he reminded himself to apologize to his boss when he had time. “That’s what I’d like to know.” 

Chris Argent was calm; Deaton was calmer. Gerard Argent was smug. Isaac looked like he just got caught robbing a bank. 

Scott still felt only a little dazed but he felt a lot angry. He had just talked himself out of leaving only to find that his allies were setting his friends to spy on him. He walked up to Chris. “Would you like to explain why you’re spying on me?” 

Isaac spoke up. “It’s not like that …”

Scott whirled on Isaac. All the disappointment in himself and all the hurt he felt when he thought that Isaac was insincere in his affection, that everything was about ‘keeping tabs’ on him, poured into his voice. He couldn’t have stopped his eyes from flashing or his voice from taking on its alpha timbre. “BE QUIET!” 

Isaac wasn’t the same person as he was during his first full moon, when Derek had to roar at him to stop him from attacking Stiles. He had learned control, he had survived pain and defeat, he had loved and lost that love, and he had undergone rigorous training with the Argents. But he was still a beta, a beta by choice, and there was nothing he could against the wrath of his alpha. He pressed himself up against the nearest wall and dropped his eyes on the ground.

Scott didn’t realize it until right after his shout, but he was breathing heavily. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He turned to Chris and said after a moment. “I should have realized it when Isaac would spend hours waiting for me like he was my chauffeur. I didn’t realize you’d go far enough to make him pretend to …” He swallowed as if he couldn’t make the words come out. “I’d like to know when you thought something like this was necessary. I’d like to know when I lost your trust.”

Chris studied him for a moment; Scott guessed he was trying to decide how much had been overheard. “I think you are jumping to conclusions, Scott. Regardless of how my father phrases things, Isaac keeping an eye on you was not a ‘mission.’ I asked him to watch over you, because I felt you would be in a vulnerable state. And, to be honest, you are in a vulnerable state.”

Chris continued. “Your pack was dispersed. As far as we could tell, they were either dead or neutralized. Your life, when you came out of the coma, was even more disrupted than it had ever been. An alpha without a pack tends to be unstable; you know this. It was Isaac who suggested he rejoin your pack, and I asked him to keep a close eye on you, as you continued healing.”

“It was more to it than that,” Scott shot back. “I know you’ve been keeping something from me. I wasn’t going to push, but … this.” He waved his hands. “You know, back when all this started, Stiles yelled at me that I trust everybody, like it was a flaw. I didn’t think he was right, but you know … I can’t do this if I can’t trust people. No, I won’t do this. I won’t rebuild my pack, I won’t stop Theo, I won’t fight the Beast if I can’t be sure that the people I care about are being honest with me. I’m done being the martyr.”

Chris was measuring him with his eyes, and Scott knew why. The hunter was trying to figure out how much of this was legitimate anger and how much of it was just the fact that too much was happening all at the same time. He was calculating.

Deaton had retreated into his unreadable face. Scott remembered their discussion from the other day, with a twinge of regret. Deaton was being the emissary, providing objectivity in the face of dissension. Scott wondered what he would say if he could be his friend.

Isaac was miserable against the wall. Scott suddenly wanted to apologize to him for using the alpha voice in anger, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It wasn’t that Scott didn’t believe Chris’s explanation, but he did not know how to process it. He had just come to accept that Isaac and he were something more, and suddenly, he wasn’t sure at all.

“As much as all these hurt feelings demonstrate our credentials as modern men,” sneered Gerard, “some of us aren’t getting any younger.” He had produced from somewhere a manila envelope and put it right in Scott’s hands. 

“What is this?” Scott demanded as Chris Argent looked like he was five seconds from committing patricide.

“The truth,” Gerard answered. “That was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

Scott pulled open the envelope. The photographs inside displayed the room in the hunting lodge in France where he had spent the months of his coma. They were stamped with different dates, always at night. The dates were all during the time he was there, but they weren’t pictures of him. 

They were pictures of a monster. It was a version of the humanoid wolf that Peter turned into during his reign of terror as an alpha, but there were important differences. This creature was far more lupine in shape, with a build more oriented towards four-legged running. It had a narrower chest, a sharper snout and plenty of reddish brown fur. It still had the blazing red eyes and the inhuman impression of strength and ferocity.

Scott looked up at the rest of them after looking at the pictures. Finally, he turned to Deaton. He opened his mouth to ask but then closed it.

Deaton understood the unspoken, as he always understood the unspoken, as he had been trained to understand the unspoken. “During your convalescence, you would transform during the nights of the full moon. It is unknown how or why this happened.”

“I don’t remember any of it,” Scott protested. “How is that possible? How could I transform while unconscious?” And there it was. He couldn’t transform while unconscious, so he must have been conscious. A part of him pushed him towards the full extent of the alpha form – the twisted and corrupt form used by Peter at his most insane. Peter had responded to the call of the moon, and so had he.

They thought he had been driven insane just like Peter had been. And when he came out of the coma and didn’t remember any of it, they thought that he had suppressed the memory, or worse, that he was lying. 

**“There is a distinct possibility …”** the Peter in his spirit walk had said, **“that you’ve gone mad.”**

Chris was grim faced across the room. Scott could read it in his eyes -- of course he hadn’t wanted to share this with him. Scott knew it would hurt the hunter to say this. It would hurt his mother. It would hurt Isaac. It would hurt Deaton. How do you tell your ally, your son, your friend, your protégé that he had gone insane?

“Why did you let me out?” Scott’s voice pleaded with them.

“Because we need you,” Gerard spat. He didn’t make it sound like a compliment; he made it sound like a necessary evil. “We don’t have the Pike, the weapon used to kill the Beast the first time. We don’t have the Hellhound, the creature prophesied to fight against the Beast. Any attempt to destroy the Beast without something to counter its power would be a slaughter with only a small chance of success. This!” Gerard snatched a picture out of Scott’s hands and shoved it in his face. “This thing you become, if it is anything like the form that Peter took, could serve as that counter. We don’t need the mewling teenage boy with his hurt feelings. We need the monster inside you.”

Everyone else in the room looked ready to throttle Gerard, even Deaton. Scott noticed, however, that none of them had contradicted him.

Scott carefully put the photos back in the envelope. “I need to be alone for a while.” He put the envelope carefully on a table. “Don’t worry,” he said bitterly. “I won’t go far.” With that, he left the house and headed into the woods.


	15. Nor Aught so Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott attempts a day spent by himself, only for the day to be made better by the appearance of an old friend. Every day can't be bad.

The setting sun was brushing the tops of the trees when someone finally came to look for him. Scott had been wandering the woods near Deaton’s home since he had left that morning, making sure not to go too far from the house as he had promised. For the first three or four hours, he had anxiously replayed the events of the last two weeks, looking for clues that he had missed to what he should have done. After a while, all the ups and downs of those memories felt like being stuck on a rollercoaster. Realizing that it was fruitless, he had pushed all that past aside. Instead, he had walked in the woods, hunted for animals – not to eat, that’d be gross – and really just spent the afternoon doing nothing of any importance.

Now, he had his shoes off and his feet submerged in a creek that ran through Deaton’s property. The water running over the smooth rocks was still cold, but it didn’t bother him. Ever since he was bit, he had always run hot. Night was coming, and he was beginning to get a little hungry, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to the house quite yet.

Scott was completely sure, however, that he did not want to risk going into town. It would mean looking over his shoulder constantly, and he wanted one night to not worry about anything, to relax and not force himself to try to make sense of the chaos into which his world had descended. He realized that he just wanted someone to hang out with. He wanted Stiles but not as they were now, but the way they used to be. If he couldn’t have that, he wanted Isaac, but he wasn’t sure what he felt about Isaac any more. 

Scott realized he just wasn’t very good at being alone.

It was with that in mind that he didn’t try to leave or try to make Derek leave when the man walked up to him as if they had planned to meet, sat down next to him, slipped off his shoes and socks, and stuck his feet in the creek as well, all without saying a single word. Derek looked like he had never left, with his stupidly tight jeans and his shirt with freaking thumbholes. But it was fine. It was better than fine. They sat like that for what must have been a quarter of the hour, as the sun slid behind the trees and the night birds came out.

Finally, Scott broke the silence. “Hey, Derek, it’s totally cool if you want to be alpha again. I promise I won’t be a dick this time.” 

Derek looked over at him and gave one of his so-tiny-you’ll-miss-it smiles. He chuckled and shook his head. “Nope.”

Scott couldn’t help but laugh at that; it burst out of him like a pet that had been in a cage too long. They went back to watching the sunset. Scott closed his eyes against the golden light, and he felt his heart calm. It was so strange; once Derek had always driven him into a mulish stubborn irritation. Now his presence was soothing. 

“So. You’re having a bit of a year,” Derek offered after awhile. Scott’s eyes opened to see that Derek was looking at him again, searching his face for clues.

Scott thought about laughing it off, but he knew you just couldn’t do it. Derek had come out here to talk to him, so he owed him the truth. “I’ve screwed everything up. My life. My packs’ lives. The town. I just can’t seem to stop myself from doing that.”

Derek hummed at him and kicked his feet in the water, radiating serenity even in the face of his confession. More time passed, and then he said, in a conversational tone, “I figured something out over the past year.”

“What was that?” Derek wasn’t a big conversationalist, so Scott knew this was going to be important.

“I figured out the biggest mistake I made while I was alpha.” Derek did not sound defensive at all, while still making it sound like it was very important. 

Scott didn’t say anything in response to that; he didn’t have anything to say. He could hardly claim to be better. He had thought about all the terrible mistakes he had made. Instead, he just sat there and listened.

“It was such a simple thing. I didn’t give myself enough time,” Derek continued. “You know, I wanted to be like my mother. You’ve probably heard that she was a great alpha.”

Scott nodded. He had heard that from multiple sources. 

“I thought that if I could run my pack like my mother ran our family, everything would be okay. I pushed myself to be like her, even when I wasn’t sure how exactly to do that. And when I made mistakes, I told myself that I was failing her memory.” He sighed. “It made me try even harder, but just because you try really hard, it is no guarantee you won’t fail. In fact, if you try too hard, you make more mistakes. I’d make a mistake, try harder, and then make another mistake. I became so frustrated with myself; I became so disappointed with myself. ”

Derek turned from where he had been contemplating the sunset to look Scott in the face. “I had forgotten a very important thing. My mother was a great alpha because she _had learned_ to be a great alpha. She had people to teach her, but she also must have made mistakes, mistakes just like the ones you and I have made, when she first became one. She must have, because she was never disappointed when her children made mistakes. I am sure that I understood that at one time, but I guessed because I missed her so much, I turned her into some flawless ideal.”

“It is so easy to see your mistakes when you look back,” Derek remarked sadly. “They seem so obvious now. What if I had stopped trying to pretend that I had all the answers for my betas when I didn’t? What if, instead of telling Boyd and Erica how much they needed me, I had said how much I needed them? What if I had told you how terrified I was of what I knew was coming? What if I hadn’t tried to push Isaac away to protect him? Would things have been different?”

“You can’t know that things would be better, Derek,” Scott said automatically. “Even when I hated what you were saying, I knew that you were trying to do what you thought best.”

Derek laughed out loud. “Thanks. All I know is that I was trying to do what I thought my mother would do, because it was all I knew, without realizing it was okay not to be exactly like her. I learned the lessons I needed to, but only after others had paid the price for my inexperience. Do I regret that? Every single day, but I can’t change the past. Tell me, Scott, what were you trying to do?”

Scott looked down at his feet. “I guess I was just trying not to be people. I was trying not to be my dad, trying not to be Peter, trying not to be Deucalion.”

“Trying not to be me?” Derek prodded.

“No!” Scott protested. Derek hit him with both eyebrows in a _Come on_ gesture. “Okay, so maybe a little.”

“You’re learning, Scott, just like I learned. It might be easy to forget that you weren’t supposed to become an alpha at seventeen, just like I was never meant to be an alpha at all. In these situations, mistakes, big mistakes, are going to happen.”

“But I lost my whole pack!” Scott exclaimed. “I lost my territory. I may have even lost my mind!”

“We all lose things in the process of learning. Don’t go comparing your mistakes to mine or to anyone else’s. It’s not only stupid, it’s fruitless. No one said this would be easy; it isn’t supposed to be easy.” Derek projected calm and it was working. “Do you still want to protect the people that were in your pack?”

“Yes!” That was true; that had always been true.

“Do you want to save people from Theo and The Beast?” 

Scott nodded. He did, more than ever, if only to make sure that all the pain that had been caused, all the good people who had died, hadn’t happened in vain. 

“Are you learning from your mistakes?” Derek demanded.

“Yes. Yes, I think so.” Scott knew he’d still give people the benefit of the doubt, but not necessarily during crisis situations. Theo had wormed his way in when he was too busy trying to save chimeras. 

“Then congratulations, you’re still the alpha.” Derek put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

Scott let him do it. He would never have imagined back in sophomore year how happy he would be to see Derek. 

“Derek, did they show you the pictures?” Scott suddenly felt like he could talk about it. That thing he was afraid of. He knew now that it was the thing haunting him, tainting his spirit walk. 

Derek nodded in response. “I guess it kind of freaked you out a bit, didn’t it?”

“You have no idea. I’ve had nightmares about it. I’ve had hallucinations about it.” Scott shuddered. “Now they want me to embrace it. Use it. Don’t they understand what it is?”

“To be honest, Scott, I don’t think you understand what it is.” Derek chided gently. “You’ve only met one person who changed like that, and that was Peter. My uncle was psychopathic at the time; you’re not psychopathic.”

Scott looked up. “Are you sure? Because right now I’m not feeling particularly balanced. They aren’t lying about it; I turned into that, without even trying. Aiden and Ethan told me something like that happens when you go too far into being an animal.”

“The twins didn’t exactly have the best teachers, so try not to put too much stock in what they said, okay?” Derek hummed again as he walked, thinking about what he was going to say. “The shape you take reflects the person you are. We know that’s true, don’t we?” 

Scott felt hurt, but he couldn’t argue. “Easy for you to say.”

“No, it’s not. And I think you don’t understand the point I am trying to make. How could my mother and how can I take the shape of a wolf? Because we both reached a point in our lives when we were at peace with ourselves. We were in harmony with our own natures and that harmony is reflected in the form we can take. A pure wolf.” 

“You’re saying …” Scott did not like the thoughts that came to mind.

“I am saying that when Peter turned into that as an alpha, he did it because he cared about only one thing: power. Enough power to get the revenge he desired. The need had consumed him, and he knew it had consumed him, but to him, it was a fair trade. I understand now why he never got any better because, ultimately, he doesn’t care about getting better. He doesn’t think he should get better. If he became an alpha again, he’d be able to take the same twisted form.”

Derek looked him in the eye. “You’re different, Scott. You’re not my uncle; you don’t see being a werewolf as a path to power. You aren’t me or my mother; you don’t see being a werewolf as the essence of what you are.” 

Scott scrunched up his face. “You’re saying that eventually I could turn into a wolf like you?”

“No, Scott. You won’t be able to.” Derek tried to soften the blow but he didn’t shy away from delivering it. “You’ll never be like Talia and me, because you didn’t want this. You never wanted it. You’ve embraced it because you had to, because if you didn’t other people would get hurt. And that’s a great thing, but you’ll never be a wolf.” 

Scott protested. “But I’ve given up wanting a cure. I’ve accepted it.”

Derek smiled. “Of course you have. You’ve accepted it because you can help people. You’ve accepted it to honor the sacrifices you’ve made and the sacrifices other people have made. “ The older werewolf’s eyes grew nostalgic. “You’ve accepted what you thought was a monster inside of you out of duty and out of necessity. What do you feel every time you call upon the alpha power?”

Scott shrugged. “I feel stronger. I feel faster. I feel better.” Derek stared at him until he squirmed. “I also feel afraid.”

“I’m not a druid or a psychologist, but I think you’ll never be able to reach the level of peace that I have because there is part of you which is still afraid of what you know you can do. And I don’t think you’ll ever be able to reach a point where you aren’t afraid. You know why.”

Scott did indeed know why. “The darkness.” 

“Everything has a price, Scott.” Derek said solemnly. “You’ll always see the power in you as something to fear; something you have to keep an eye on. That is why you take the form you do, because you’ll always see Peter when you look at yourself, even though you aren’t anything close to him at all. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“It’s not?”

“No. Think about the people who weren’t afraid of power: Peter, Matt, Deucalion, Jennifer. They wanted it. They _needed_ it so much they didn’t care who they hurt with it. You’ll never be like them, even if you look like them.” 

Scott looked down in the water, where there was a dim outline. “Do you really think it can help?”

“To wield power responsibly takes strength. Any weak person can hurt someone else.” Derek smiled fondly. “My mother told me that.”

Scott sighed. His day off was over, but he was far more calm than this morning. “Will you help me learn how to change?”

Derek nodded. “Of course. I’ll even promise that your heart won’t have to stop to do it.” He looked up at the blush of the sky. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Your mother should have dinner ready.”

They got up and put their shoes and shocks back on for the walk back to the house. They didn’t need to, but it just seemed like a normal thing to do. 

“Did you talk to Isaac?” Scott asked quietly as they started out.

“I didn’t get a chance. Chris and Deaton filled us in when we got here. What happened? His scent was terrible.” Derek shook his head. “I would have drawn him aside, but the first fifteen minutes was spent trying to get me to calm down with Gerard in the house.”

“They didn’t make you talk to him!” Scott exclaimed. He could barely stand being in the same room with the old hunter; he couldn’t imagine how bad it would be for Derek.

“Oh, no.” Derek laughed. “I could smell him though, and I could feel him, after all. Even though he’s omega, I still bit him.” He said it so casually, so easily, so effortlessly as if it was a minor inconvenience. Like he ran into an ex-girlfriend at a party.

Scott stopped right there in the forest as if someone had just walked up and smacked him in the back of the head with a baseball bat. He felt the gorge rise in his throat. “What?” He choked out. 

Derek seemed surprised by Scott’s reaction. He turned, puzzled, but then his face smoothed out. “Oh. You didn’t realize it, did you? When you poisoned Gerard with mountain ash, you thought you had prevented him from turning. You didn’t. All the mountain ash did was stop the process from reaching completion. That’s where all the black fluid came from; it happens when something goes wrong with the bite.”

“Like Jackson.” Scott whispered. Derek nodded enthusiastically. 

“Just like Jackson. However, Chris told me months ago that to secure his father’s cooperation, he used a very rare form of wolfsbane to help his father. It doesn’t poison werewolves as much as it suppresses them. Gerard will never get any of the benefits of being a werewolf – no strength, no speed, no senses, no healing – but he also doesn’t have the drawbacks. He’s still a werewolf, though. With that side of him suppressed, the mountain ash worked its way out of his system months ago.”

“You can feel him.” Scott understood the bond between an alpha and someone that alpha had bitten. It was one of the reasons he was so adamant about rescuing Liam. “Oh, god. You’ll always feel him. I did that.”

Derek sighed. “Scott. Don’t worry about it. Obviously, I wasn’t a big fan of that plan, but what were your alternatives? If you had refused, he would have killed you and had Jackson make me bite him. Your plan saved my life and the lives of everyone I cared about.” He put both hands on Scott’s shoulders. “If you feel the need to apologize for something,” He mimicked Scott’s voice in a not so flattering way. “Apologize for ’You may be an alpha, but you’re not mine.’ I understand the feelings behind it, but doing it right then – _dick move_.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I see that. Especially now. I’m sorry, Derek. I am. I promise I am.” He shook his head. “This stuff never gets any easier, does it?”

Derek offered him a small smile. “Life never gets any easier. As for Isaac, I saw that he’s miserable, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. What happened?”

Scott started walking back to the house, crunching through the leaves. “So, I’m just going to rip this bandage right off. Isaac was there when I woke up in France. We maybe started seeing each other. Then I found that Chris asked him to keep an eye on me. Gerard made sound it like he was spying on me, and I lost my temper and roared at him. So now, I think I may have screwed it up, but I am not even sure I know what it is.”

Derek listened. “Oh, no. Oh, no. I am not offering any relationship advice. Nope.” He shook his head in mock seriousness. 

Scott offered a weak smile. “I’m on my own then.”

“I will say one thing. Isaac looks up to you. He cares about you and what you think about him.” Derek said seriously. “That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“I know. I’ll figure out a way to apologize to him while still letting him know that it wasn’t cool what he did.” Scott screwed up his face. “However that is going to work.”

“Speaking of which.” Derek got this weird look on his face. “Your mom and Chris? What the hell is it with you McCalls and Argents?”

“Don’t look at me! It happened when I was in a coma. That is definitely not my fault!” 

They laughed together all the way back to the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Happy Derek. I also think put forward my argument about why Derek didn't resent "Master Plan."


	16. But, Strain'd from that Fair Use

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott checks in on his family and his pack. Chris confronts him about his anger. Scott shows Isaac how he really feels about him.

Dinner that night was a strange affair, full of awkward silences. His mother had declared the dinner table a no-shop-talk zone and promised deadly retribution against anyone who dared mention the troubles that plagued them otherwise. She brooked no argument from anyone on it.

Deaton’s dining room table could sit all eight of them comfortably: the four humans, the three werewolves, and the werecoyote. Gerard took his meal in his room, because no one actually wanted him at the dinner table. Lydia was still recovering in her bedroom. Both Deaton and his mom had insisted she have plenty of bed rest.

Isaac avoided looking at Scott all throughout supper. Scott tried to focus on the conversations surrounding him, but he couldn’t help but glance Isaac's way every once in a while. His mother sat at one of the end of the table ready to pounce on those who defied her edict and offering up conversation topics such as how long Dr. Deaton had had this home.

“It’s quite new,” the veterinarian replied. “Construction was finished in May.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Melissa says. “Thanks again for letting us stay here. Why did you choose to have it built?” 

"Your presence is not a problem; indeed, it was the possibility of having guests that encouraged me to have it built. My old apartment was simply not suitable for having guests, and I have come to the conclusion that I will be remaining in Beacon Hills for the foreseeable future.” He did not elaborate, but as it was clearly ‘shop talk,' no one was concerned. Scott found himself letting out a breath of relief. 

It was good to have someone who planned to stay.

After this, there was another unpleasant lull in the conversation. His mother’s rule came from the right place in her heart: the desire to give them something else besides struggle. But you could not really discuss the present if you had to remain in hiding, and you couldn’t really discuss the future, if the only thing on your list to do was defeat an ancient evil.

Finally, Derek had the brilliant of idea of he, Braeden, and Malia entertaining the table with tales of South America and their travels there. While Braeden had been all over the world before, Derek and Malia were very excited to talk about what they’ve seen. such as how different the Amazon basin was from any place they had ever been or how they had spent time with Cora and her pack. They carefully avoid talking about the times where they were trying to catch Malia’s mom. 

Scott still felt awkward between his tension with Isaac and his mother's commandments, but it wasn't a bad dinner. It turned out that Deaton was a very good cook. 

“You’d be surprised,” he responded when complimented, “how many things in life come down to putting just the right ingredients together in just the right proportion.” 

Scott stopped on his way to the kitchen; he had finished eating and was clearing his plate away. He felt like asking what he meant, but before he could, Chris indicated that he wanted to speak to him. Alone. Outside. “With no one listening in,” The hunter commanded in a voice that everyone could hear.

They went outside and headed down to where the cars were parked. Scott always felt like a teenager when he and Chris walked somewhere like this. It was a mature man taking him under his wing; something that he had wished his father had been able to do. It made him happy, because sometimes, even he forgot that a teenager was exactly what he was. He knew he could rely on Mr. Argent.

And wasn’t that one of the biggest jokes that the universe had played on them all.

There might come a day when Mr. Argent would be his step-dad. It would be very cool and very weird at the exact same time. But Scott knew one thing – he would never, ever worry about his mother’s safety. 

Chris Argent did not mince words. “I think you are being unfair to Isaac. If you want to blame someone, blame me.” He crossed his arms and leant against his SUV.

“I don’t want to blame anyone,” Scott explained. “I understand why you did it. I understand why you didn’t tell me. I … I know that Isaac didn’t think of it as spying. I know that he was just watching out for me. But … whatever is going on between us is new and strange and it is just on top of everything else. I’ll fix it.”

“You don’t have to fix everything, Scott, but an apology might be in order, which I am sure will be reciprocated.”

“Uhm, I hope that what Isaac and I … are doing ... whatever we are doing …”

“Son, I think it’s usually called dating.” Suddenly, Mr. Argent had a dry wit. Or maybe he had always been a dry wit, but Scott hadn’t noticed because it had previously been accompanied by .45 automatic pistols in his face. 

Scott turned a little pink. “Uhm, it’s not going to mess his training up, is it?” 

Chris shook his head, laughing. “Who knows? I’m relearning things myself.” He sobered up. “We have to talk about what happened last night.”

That certainly brought the mood down. Scott knew why he had been able to push his emotions down and to act like it hadn't happened. He had not seen the body, so it was sort of not real. He realized that was one reason that his mother had been so focused on her dinner-table rules. It was a way to deal. “Okay.” 

“I still have some connections in the sheriff’s department, and we even have a few connections in the FBI. I confirmed that they are looking at this as we would want them to but also as we feared.” 

Scott stared at him; 'as we would want them to' obviously meant that there was no indication of the supernatural. But when he mentioned fear, Mr. Argent had seemed far more serious. “You mean that they’re looking at me for it?”

“The better phrase is for you. They talked to your neighbors and to the prosecutor for Stiles’ case.”

Scott took in a deep breath and then let it out. “So, I’m a suspect. Have you told my mom? How is this going to hurt us?”

“We simply have to be more careful about your movements. They haven’t issued a warrant for you, yet. My people on the inside – some of them were Stilinski’s people – they know what's up and they will try to warn us if they do issue one. No one knows that we are staying out here, but even so Alan, your mother and I are going to have to talk to the FBI.”

“But that’s what Valet wants!” Visions of The Beast attacking the three of them jumped into his head. “For you to show yourselves! I should go in and talk to them, prove that I’m not the one who did it.” 

“Scott, we need you free. My father may be unpleasant, but he has a firm grasp of strategic analysis. With you in the FBI clutches, a lot of people are going to die.” Chris reasoned carefully. “Valet isn’t going to do anything in broad daylight. Alan’s been keeping his practice open, and he hasn't been attacked. I promise we’ll be careful.”

Scott clenched his fists. “Okay. _Okay_. You’ll make sure my mom’s safe?” 

Chris nodded. “I will do everything I can.” 

“Should we still go after Theo tomorrow?” Scott asked, staring at the ground. 

“Our motivations for doing that haven’t changed. We need you as strong as we can possibly get you. This means you need your pack; you need Liam.” Chris pointed out the obvious. “And given Theo's display of tactical acumen, we don’t need him nipping at our heels.”

Scott did not even smile at the dog joke. “Okay. “ He said more firmly. “Okay.”

“School’s out at 3:30,” Argent says. “We meet at 3:00 p.m.”

Scott suddenly stuck out his hand in an offer to shake. “You know, I’m pretty sure that I’d have been dead by now several times without you. I think a whole lot of people who are alive right now would have been dead.” Chris hesitated for only a second and then took the hand. “You should be proud; you’ve honored your name. You’ve honored both of them.”

Chris nodded. “Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes.“

Scott released Chris's hand and walked back toward the house. “You know, if you do marry my mom, I think I’d probably have to keep my dad’s last name, because I’m his only child.” He paused. “But if I wasn’t, I think I wouldn’t mind taking yours.”

Scott went back inside and spent the rest of the evening talking with people in the living room: Deaton, his mother, Derek, and Braeden. Chris joined them a few minutes later. They went over the plan for tomorrow and hashed things out, back and forth. Other times they talked about the future. Derek and Braeden promised to stay until their enemies were dealt with, but Braeden was far too used to the nomadic lifestyle to stay in one place for long. Derek spoke of travelling with her for as long as she had them. There were obviously strong feelings between them but you could tell that it wasn’t anything like ‘forever.’ Scott realized neither of them thought in those terms.

“I was sorry to hear about Kira,” Derek remarked from where he had his arm around Braeden. Maybe he was self-conscious about the cuddling.

“Kira is fine,” Scott answered. He knew that, instinctively. “It may take her a long time to recover from what the Doctors did to her, but she will recover. The Skinwalkers will help her and protect her. At first, I was a little worried about them, but …” He glanced over at Deaton. “… just because they act differently than us doesn’t mean they have ulterior motives. An unbalanced kitsune is dangerous, and they are willing to help. She is still pack, so I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Deaton nodded his approval silently.

Scott thought about saying nothing more, but he went on. “I still love her, but sometimes things get in the way. She’ll live for centuries, and it would be selfish of me to insist she endanger herself to be with me. She will get the help she needs.” He pauses. “I am dating Isaac, if he’s still talking to me, and I don’t feel bad about that. I could die tomorrow.” He shrugged and didn't meet his mother’s eyes. “So, are you guys staying here?” 

Braeden made a snorting noise. Derek had earlier explained patiently that he will never sleep under the same roof as Gerard Argent, outnumbered or not. He looked apologetically at Chris. 

Chris’s answer was simple. “I wouldn’t either if I had a choice.” 

“So where are you staying?”

“It may have escaped your attention,” replied Derek, “but I am really, really rich. Especially now since Peter is legally dead … again.” He shrugged. “I inherited all his money. We’ll check into hotels and motels at the last minute and never stay in one place for more than a night. It shouldn’t be a problem for the three of us.”

“That’s good. Where is Malia, by the way?”

Braeden jerked her thumb upstairs. “She’s spending time with Lydia.” 

“I think I’ll go to see them.” Scott got up and felt slightly dislocated, like the conversations he had just had were stilted and odd. He realized as he went up the stairs that they weren’t stilted and odd; they were new. They were ships sailing in uncharted waters. The people in this house knew each other, but they didn't know the world they were in.

Lydia’s door was open. He stopped just before the doorway so as not to disrupt whatever Malia and Lydia were doing. Peeking around the corner, Lydia was sitting up on the bed, which was a very good sign, and Malia was brushing her hair. Scott smiled; it looked like something so normal – two friends doing one another’s hair in the most girlie-girl way imaginable. He then had a second, stranger thought: it could be a member of a pack grooming another as a way of comforting them.

Scott realized it didn’t matter which perception of that action was true. It was good either way.

He thought about interrupting them and sharing their good times, but he changed his mind. Malia needed to feel that she belonged here again and he knew that she felt guilty for ‘abandoning’ the pack, even though she had never actually done that. Lydia had far more to relearn, and he was reluctant to overwhelm her. He knew what it felt like to return to an old life to find everything changed. He had learned that being alpha, and the responsibility that entailed, could make things stressful. Sometimes, he needed to step back.

Scott instead went to his room and opened the door. As he expected, Isaac was laying on the bed, listening to some music in the dark. He wasn’t sure he knew what band it was. It was very tragic and Scott was sure that the singers dressed only in black and looked forlornly into the distance.

The light from the hallway alerted Isaac to his presence and he sat up on the bed. “Scott …” His voice hesitated as if he wasn’t sure what he would say next.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Scott stopped him and closed the door behind him. “I want to say that even if I was mad at you, even if I was yelling at you, I shouldn’t have used my power against you. It was wrong. I will try my best not to do it again.”

“I understand …”

Scott cut him off again. “And the fact that I let Gerard Argent make me think that you were betraying me just means I’m stupid and I’ve never learned my lesson. It doesn’t matter if I was upset about my dad … it doesn’t make it right.”

“Come on, Scott …”

Scott approached and knelt by the side of the bed while he kept talking. “I have been worried and angry and upset, and while I’m not sure whether what you did was right or wrong, how I acted was wrong. My mother always told me that two wrongs don’t make a right.”

Scott took a deep breath after what he said and then looked up to see Isaac smiling at him. “You’re going to let me talk now?”

Scott blushed while nodding his head.

“I’m not going to apologize for watching over you. I’m not going to apologize for not wanting to burden you with one more thing while I’ve had to stand here and watch you take up responsibility for everything in this shitty, shitty town, _again_.” Isaac spoke in a whisper but filled with urgency. “I knew you would do it, I knew you would do it right away, even though you’ve been comatose for six months. So I’m not going to apologize for doing what I needed to watch your back, and I’m always going to watch your back.”

Scott blinked at Isaac in the darkness for a moment and then took his head in both hands and kissed him. Scott knew what ‘I love you’ sounded like, no matter what words were used. 

Isaac didn’t fight the kiss but when they finally broke apart. He was smiling. “You’re welcome?” 

Scott bent down and grabbed the edges of Isaac’s shirts and started to pull them up. Isaac stared at him; this was as aggressive as Scott had ever been before. “You going to lift your arms?” It was a question asked light-heartedly but with serious undertones. It was asking permission without asking permission. 

Isaac kept his eyes fixed on Scott’s as he slowly and deliberately lifted his arms. Question answered; permission granted. 

Scott tossed the shirts over his shoulder and onto the floor. He reached for Isaac’s belt and slowly began to unfasten. Trying to do this was harder if he was trying to meet Isaac’s gaze, so he had to go slowly. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Isaac teased. Or he actually said it teasingly, but he really wanted to know.

“Scoot up.” Scott said in response, pulling Isaac’s jeans off. “Do you really want to know? It’s gonna sound pretty lame.” The pants went flying over his shoulder as well. Scott then went to work on the socks. “You don’t keep them on, do you? I can’t stand keeping them on.”

“Yeah, take them off,” Isaac swallowed. “I want to know. I also want to know why I’m the only one losing clothes here.” 

“I deserve this,” Scott answered and pulled his own shirt off. “God that makes me sound like an egomaniac, but it’s true. I think you made it pretty clear that you want this, but I’ve been all worried about Kira and everyone else and being selfish when there are people in danger and people getting killed, but I realized that it’s not going to stop.”

Isaac ran his hand down Scott’s chest as he listened to him and watched him get undressed. “What’s not going to stop?”

“Life. Everything. I think there was a part of me that believed that one day suddenly everything would become simple again. Like when I was fifteen and I’d never run for my life or have to decide who lives or dies or wonder if I was betraying someone I love. A part of me that believed that if I worked really hard and saved everybody, the world would suddenly become peaceful.” He picked up Isaac’s hand and kissed it. “But it won’t happen. Even if the problems are as boring and mundane as how to pay for college or my bike breaking down or catching tapeworms because I ate a bad rabbit, there is always going to be something happening. I can’t stop it, but I can damn well have some of what I want in the meantime.” 

“You eat rabbits?” Isaac scooted back on the bed.

“It was hyperbole, jackass. English class?” Scott pushed Isaac down so he was lying flat on the bed and crawled on top of him. “I deserve this. I deserve you.” He kissed Isaac along the line of his jaw. “And I hope you’re okay with that.”

Isaac wrapped his arms and pulled him close. “More than okay.” Face to face – nose to nose, even – Scott could see the smile in Isaac’s eyes. He’d taken it better than he thought he was. Isaac closed those eyes and then tilted his head back so his neck was open. It was a signal.

Scott realized that when it came to being with someone else, he always led with his nose. He had no idea if it was a ‘him’ thing or a ‘wolf’ thing or even if there wasn’t a difference any more, as he hadn’t had sex before he was bitten. He didn’t mind it, and he could tell that Isaac didn’t mind either. It was a delicate process, sniffing along the jawline, down the side of the neck, at the hairline, following them with quick kisses, no more than touches. He wanted to know Isaac, or rather, he wanted to know Isaac more. He did it best with his nose and his lips, while his hands held Isaac in place 

Isaac, on the other hand, relied on his arms and legs. They were long and strong and Isaac used them to hold Scott to him. Legs were wrapped around other legs, slowly moving around and switching positions like rubbing twigs together to start a fire. His hands and arms took circuits around Scott’s body, pressing everywhere as if measuring distances between them.

There was no doubt farther they could take this, but tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was about moving past the beginning and into the heart of whatever was going to come. Maybe it wasn’t the most graceful, maybe it wasn’t what people imagined when love became physical, but it was enough for them. They bumped and rolled and slid on each other like tumblers in a lock. It was wonderful and it was messy and they had no idea how long it took them.

Afterwards, Isaac quirked his lips down. Scott was on top of him again. Things were pretty sticky. “We should get cleaned up.”

Scott groaned a protest. “Nope.” He wanted to smell like Isaac and wanted Isaac to smell like him. “Don’t want to move.” After a minute though, he remember that might be selfish. “You uncomfortable?”

“No,” Isaac answered and just let his eyes closed. “Just thought … never mind.” Scott could tell that Isaac meant it. Everything was right, and frankly, Scott didn’t want to move. He lay there as content as a cat on a laptop, his head on Isaac’s chest. 

Scott listened to Isaac's heartbeat until they both fell asleep.


	17. Revolts from True Birth, Stumbling on the Abuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's pack and his allies battle Theo and his chimera.

As scheduled on the next day, they met in an empty parking lot three blocks away from the high school at 3:00 p.m. Braeden, Derek, and Malia had come in one SUV, while Chris, Gerard, and Isaac had arrived in another. His mother remained with Lydia back at Deaton’s home, and Deaton had gone to work as normal, just in case Theo kept an eye on the animal clinic.

They were met by a teacher, Mr. Almoner, who taught mathematics and economics since Coach Finstock was still in rehabilitation. It turned out that Mr. Almoner was one of Argent’s hunters. He called himself a watcher; he kept tabs on werewolves but never actually fought them.

Scott realized that he couldn't smell gun oil, gunpowder, wolfsbane, or anything that would normally mark someone as a hunter on Mr. Almoner. He wondered how many teachers had been on the Argent payroll after Gerard had been made principal.

Scott sat on his motorcycle between the bigger vehicles to minimize his exposure. He kept his eyes peeled as everyone else assembled. He now had to be careful to notice any police officers. He had no idea that they’d get a warning early enough about a warrant for his arrest. He sighed at the inconvenience.

Once everyone had gathered before him, Chris started his briefing. “We have a pretty good idea where Theo’s base of operations is. Our friend here took the time over the last week to place trackers in Hayden's and Corey’s vehicles as well as sliding trackers into Hayden’s, Corey’s, and Noah’s backpacks. We’ve been able to get a good idea of their movements.”

Chris spreads out a map of those damn tunnels under the water treatment plant. “We’re assuming that Theo is using one of the Doctors' operating theaters as a base of operation. They have power and water, and they were designed to be hard to locate. However, without the Dread Doctors’ presence, our trackers actually work.”

“The priority goal of this mission is securing Liam Dunbar. They’ll be two teams. The first team will be the werewolves – they’re the distraction. They’ll go in loud enough to make Theo and his chimera react to them. The second team, consisting of the humans, will enter the operating theater, secure the target, and if time allows, look for intelligence. If we can get the beta and more information on how the Doctors recreated La Bête, this will all be worth it.”

Chris completed the tactical portion and then looked over at Scott. Scott had told him he didn’t think this was necessary, that they had worked together for so long everyone would know that Chris wasn’t trying to undermine his position as alpha (except for Gerard and who the fuck cared what he thought), but Chris had insisted. “You know just as well as I do,” Chris had told him earlier that morning, “that your control and your strength depend on your self-image. You need to get used to being the alpha again.”

Scott stepped forward. “I know that Theo and his gang are our enemies.” He was never going to call the chimeras a pack. “But I also know that those five were teenagers, just like me, who didn’t ask to be taken, experimented on, buried alive, and then murdered. Their lives were stolen from them. I’m not asking you to give up your lives for them, but if you can, don’t kill them.” He took a deep breath. “I’d rather not kill Theo, too, if it can be done.”

Malia growled. “Theo murdered you.” 

“Yep. But this isn’t about revenge. It’s about getting Liam back and finding anything we can to stop The Beast.” He looked over at the old man who smirked at him. “Spilling his blood doesn’t help us against Valet at all. If Theo is still here when the Beast is defeated, we’ll figure out what to do with him.”

Scott looked around at each person. “But no one is to risk their lives for Theo. He is too good at taking advantage of people for that to happen. I’m not going to get upset if one of you kills him in the heat of battle. Put yourself first.”

“Always do,” answered Braeden. “Now that the big guys are done, I’m going to go over the radios one more time.”

Knowing the nature of the tunnels, Chris had arranged for some military grade radios to make sure they could contact each other. While Braeden talked to Isaac and Derek on how to use the radios, Scott looked over the maps that they had provided. He wanted to memorize them as well as he could. He remembered getting lost down there.

He heard someone come up beside him. It was Gerard Argent. Scott thought to himself that all he needed was Gerard Argent subtly threatening him.

“Did you have something to add?” Scott asked after he felt Gerard’s eyes on the back of the neck. 

“Nope.” Gerard Argent just stood there. It was at times like this that a small part of him wishes he wasn’t so ‘blandly moral’ as Peter had put it. Slugging Gerard Argent for no good reason would make him feel ten times better.

“Do you disagree with any of the plan?” Scott scratched at the back of his neck.

Gerard’s eyes had that glimmer of false merriment he could put in there at will to conceal his true nature as a vicious survivor. “Nope.”

Gerard’s presence was freaking him out and he had the strangest feeling that the old man was enjoying it. Finally, Scott walked away from Gerard and tracked his son down. Chris was checking the assault rifle. 

Scott whispered to Chris. “This is going to make me sound like I’m fourteen, but your dad is creeping me out. He was just standing there all happy and shit.”

“My father,” said Chris seriously, “is very goal oriented. Getting the opportunity to essentially refound the family is very important to him as way of immortalizing his legacy.“ His voice was low and steady. “It's the reason why I'm keeping him on a short leash right now, but we do need to be more careful the closer we get to the final battle.” 

“You think he might betray us?” Scott queried.

“I don’t think he’s planning anything, but we have to remember that other people’s lives don’t matter to Gerard. I’m going to keep an eye on him; you should too.”

Scott nodded. “I will. Actually, I always try to keep an eye on Gerard. Are we ready?”

“Don’t rush things Scott. We want to give the chimeras at least thirty minutes after school to go where they are going to go.” 

Scott shakes his head and spends the next thirty minutes talking to everyone and making sure they are all on the same page. Creepy Gerard Argent never left his consciousness though, not until the wolves moved into the water tunnels.

As they entered, he realized that he was actually the loudest of the four werewolves. Malia had always been naturally stealthy, Isaac had been trained to move quietly, and Derek was … Derek. As Stiles had once put it, the born wolf probably emerged from his mother’s womb without anyone noticing. 

“Well, at least I have the proper skill set for this mission,” Scott joked. “I can make a lot of noise.”

No one laughed. He looked back at them; they were being stealthy and cautious and now he felt like an idiot. He stretched out his neck and moved forward. He kept his pace slow, for he needed to give the humans time to get into position before he drew the enemy out.

Scott didn’t like thinking of the chimera other than Theo as the enemy. He knew, intimately, what they had felt like when all this had happened to them. How lost and terrified. But he knew, for them, it had got worse. He couldn’t imagine what his life would have been like if he hadn’t resisted Peter.

The Doctors chose these tunnels for a reason. They burrowed through the earth of beacon hills like worms becoming hard to navigate through and easy to hide in. Chemical treatments and spills acted to cover scents, which would have protected them from nosy werecreatures. Finally, while there were buildings in Beacon Hills built above the intersection of telluric currents, some of the tunnels were parallel to the currents. That could be useful to people who needed them.

All of these reasons contributed to Scott being ill at ease in these tunnels, but not as much as that frustrating day he spent with Malia and Mason, looking for Liam and Hayden. Of course, Theo had ‘rescued’ them, but then that was easy when you were actually a plant for the Doctors.

They got near to the location of the doorway to the operating theater. He glanced back at the three of them and nodded that he was ready, so they retreated into their positions. It was completely natural to attack from surprise; ambush predators do it in nature all the time. Scott took a deep breath and roared a challenge into the tunnels, making sure that the force of it was directed at the doorway so they know that he was there. 

It didn’t take long for the door to open up and Theo to come out. Of course, he was smirking, and he’s flanked by his entire gang: Tracy, Hayden, Noah, and … Josh Diaz. Scott tried to keep the concern off his face. He hadn’t known the identity of the sixth chimera, and he remembered vividly that Josh liked to gnaw on power cables. Electricity was something of which to be wary. Scott couldn’t see Corey, but that meant nothing. He had warned the others of the chimera’s ability to be invisible, so he would have to rely on them to find him, while he concentrated on Theo.

Theo crossed his harms. “Really, Scott? I knew subtlety wasn’t your strong suit, but roaring like that? Isn’t that a little Homeric, even for you?”

“What has that to do with 'The Simpsons'?” Scott asked. He wasn’t sure what a television show had to do with anything, but he also knew that Theo liked showing off how smart he was. The longer he could keep him talking, the better for everyone.

Theo rolled his eyes. “I know you didn’t come here alone. Where are your people?” Theo’s eyes gleamed yellow. It must still bug him that they weren't red. “It doesn’t matter. Take him.”

Battles always seem to start out with everyone in their place and ready to go according to plan. And it always exactly five seconds after the battle begins, the plan is so far out the window that it might as well have not existed. Scott didn’t wait for them to come to him but charged forward. He knew that his pack had his back.

He didn’t go for Theo as much as he wanted to. He went for Tracy. Werewolves could heal fast, and alpha werewolves could heal even faster, but paralysis could easily turn the tide. It didn’t matter if you were still alive if you couldn’t move. 

Scott had talked to Malia and Kira about their struggle with the artificial kanima before everything had gone to hell. Tracy had great natural instincts as a fighter. She used the increased reach of her tail as well as her ability to climb walls to her advantage. Now, as he clashed with her, she showed more conscious decision along with her natural instincts. She took a step back so when she slashed her tail at Scott, he had to pause in his approach. She meant to control the distance between them during their fight.

Behind him Scott could hear the shouts and other noises of combat. Isaac was cursing because Corey had snatched his gun from him before he could bring it into play. He could hear the spark and sizzle of Josh’s electricity against the walls of the tunnel. Derek’s grunts as he struggled with someone. He didn’t look back because he didn’t need to. He had every faith in his friends.

His problem was with Tracy. She’d obviously been working hard to get better at fighting. He was mostly on the defensive trying to keep away from her tail and claws. On the other hand, while she had fought Malia and Kira, she hadn’t fought him, and he realized that she was underestimating his speed. 

When she twisted around once more to slash her tail at him, he stepped back but stepped forward the moment the tail passed by. When she completed her revolution, he grabbed both her wrists, so she couldn’t bring her claws into play, nor could she swing her tail at him. 

Scott didn’t try to talk her down, didn’t try to get her to stop, because beyond the horrific memories of the full-kanima Jackson, he could tell that she was enjoying this. She was fighting an alpha one-on-one and it _thrilled_ her. He remembered what Lydia had told him of Tracy’s paralyzing night terrors and her utter helplessness in the face of them. How much of a relief to be actually be able to do something; to be the terror instead of being the victim.

He realized, though, that she couldn’t break his grip; she wasn’t strong enough. Scott recalled that Jackson was as strong, if not a little stronger, than Derek as an alpha, but she didn’t match his strength. She was, after all, an artificial blend of kanima and werewolf, so they didn’t really know the extent of her strengths or her weaknesses.

He hadn’t yet come up with a plan to deal with Tracy locked in a stalemate. She wasn’t strong enough to break free, but if he let go, they be right back to where they were before. Scott knew that he could bite out her throat, but he didn’t want to kill Tracy. She didn’t deserve it. None of them deserved it.

The choice was taken away from him as he felt claws rip up into his back from behind. Theo had made his move. Scott groaned but held onto Tracy’s wrists. If he let go now, that would be the end.

“I bet this seems familiar, doesn’t it?” Theo sneered into his ear. The first chimera had used the cover of the battle to get behind and now was digging claws in through his back. He probably had already damaged his kidneys and was working up behind the ribcage. 

“Sooner or later, Scott,” Theo continued. “As I tear out your organs, you’ll weaken, lose your grip, and Tracy will paralyze you. Then we’ll drive your allies off and I’ll have a long heart-to-heart with Liam. It’ll probably be pretty messy, but in the end, I _will_ be an alpha.” 

Scott knew he was right, but he also knew that Theo still underestimated an alpha’s strength. “You’re an ass.” Scott slammed his head to the side, right where Theo was whispering into his ear. It hurt like hell, but he bet it hurt Theo more. “You’re greedy.” He slammed his head into Theo’s face again. “And you talk too much.” He slammed a third time and he felt the bones in Theo’s face crack. 

Theo staggered back under the assault. Tracy looked concerned, distracted by her loyalty to Theo, and Scott took that opportunity to throw her across the tunnels, slamming her up against the wall and freeing his hands. Hurt and bleeding from his back, he powered through the pain and gets a grip with both hands on Theo’s neck, claws out. 

“Stop!” He roars out so everyone can hear him. “I’ll tear his head off if you don’t stop right now.” To Scott, it was more than a tactic. It was also a test to see how the other chimera would react.

Tracy surprised him by going immediately still, as if she had been stunned. Scott would have thought that she enjoyed the fight so much as to be reluctant to stop, but it was not so. Suddenly, he realized that while she was an artificial kanima, she still had some of its traits; including, apparently, the desire to seek a master. Tracy was going to be loyal to Theo as long as he was alive.

Corey who had been fighting Isaac with Hayden’s help immediately retreated to a wall and disappeared. His hatred for violence and danger had always been obvious but now it is even more apparent, taking any chance to retreat.

Josh hesitated down the corridor where he had spent his time trying to electrocute Malia, but both of them were hurt. Malia was too swift on her feet to get really shocked, and she had claws as well. He looked like he was vacillating between continuing the fight and retreating.

Noah wasn’t retreating; Scott was shocked by his appearance. It seemed the longer Noah fought, the more inhuman he became and the more out of control. Derek was hard pressed to keep him at bay, but Noah fought with abandon, and Derek was too savvy at fighting to be seriously hurt. Hayden took a step back and glanced at Noah, who immediately stopped fighting. Derek was starting at Hayden and Noah as if he had figured something out about them.

“You won’t kill me,” Theo spoke nastily from where Scott had him grappled. “That isn’t your style, is it, True Alpha?” 

Scott tightened the grip on his throat. “I don’t know, Theo, maybe I’m all into fair play. You murdered me, I murder you. Sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

“If you were going to murder me, you would have done it in the school parking lot,” Theo continued after choking a little. “Or you would have killed me already, today. After all, I did get your father killed.”

Maybe Theo did talk too much, because Scott’s claws actually drew blood while he gripped Theo’s neck tight enough to stop him from breathing. Scott had somehow managed to push down what had happened just two days ago so thoroughly he forgot it had happened. Now, Theo’s mouth had opened those wounds back up. He hadn’t liked his father, but he was realizing that you never actually stop loving your parents. They could have repaired things. Now, they never would.

In a tight voice, he gritted. “That’s enough out of you. Isaac, check Team Two.” While Isaac reached for the radio he turned his attention to the other chimera. 

“Is this what you want?” Scott demanded. “You understand what this was about? He sent you against an experienced werewolf pack with a real alpha for two reasons. The first reason would be his own ego. He couldn’t stand the idea of knowing I had beaten him, even though he knew that I outnumbered him and out-powered him.” He let Theo’s throat open up enough for the First Chimera to draw a breath and then tightened the grasp back up. “The second reason would be the fact that if I take Liam from him, he loses his chance to steal my power.”

“He doesn’t care about you. He never did. You are tools to him.” Scott spat. “If you were a real pack, you would be out of your minds with worry for your leader, but you don’t feel anything like real loyalty or even a desire to be loyal. You’re scared of what will happen if Theo isn’t out here to look after you.” He let Theo take another breath. Just one more. “I don’t have to worry about my pack. I know they trust me, and I trust them. I don’t have to bluster or threaten anyone to get them to obey me. They aren’t risking their lives for me because I made them do it; they’re risking their lives to help save Liam because they know the pack would do the same for them.”

“I’m giving you a choice. Walk away, right now. Walk away and I’ll make sure you are protected. My pack will protect you – from Theo, from the Beast, from anyone. Go home to your families; go someplace where you aren’t afraid. If you stay with him, it’s only a matter of time before he gets you killed getting him what he wants.”

Isaac spoke up. “Team Two has Liam.” It was perfect timing from his beta; it demonstrated that the McCall pack put each other first. 

Scott let Theo have another breath but squeezed it closed again before he could say anything. “We have what we came for. Choose.” 

Hayden spoke up. “Come on, Noah. Corey. I’m tired of Theo’s bullshit anyway.” She turned and walked down the tunnel. Noah immediately followed her. 

Josh looked a little hesitant but then looked over at Theo. “You may have brought me back, but you killed me the first time. Go fuck yourself.” He walked down another tunnel. Tracy didn’t move, watching Scott and Theo. 

“I guess you should have treated them better,” Scott said to Theo. “They were yours as long as they thought you could protect them, but now they know …” Scott may have not wanted to kill Theo, but he did want to hurt him a little bit. “… that I’m better than you.” He threw Theo to the floor. Tracy immediately went to him. 

“Get out of town, Theo. You aren’t welcome here. You come at one of mine or one of those people who walked out of here just now, and my pack will hunt you down. We’ll show you what real werewolves in a real pack can do.” 

Theo looked like he was going to argue, but then he realized he was outnumbered. His throat probably hurt as well. Tracy picked him up and led him out; when she did that, Theo suddenly looked at her strangely, like she was surprised she was still here. 

Leave it to Theo to be surprised by real loyalty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never, ever accepted the fanon opinion that Scott is stupid. His grades suffered in the second semester of sophomore year because he had to deal with turning into a werewolf. I also don't equate him not being familiar with pop culture or Greek myth or literature as signs of him being stupid. He has his flaws; that isn't one of them.


	18. Virtue Itself Turns Vice, Being Misapplied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Liam talk after the beta's rescue; Chris helps Scott clarify his own thoughts.

“You let him go?” Chris demanded when they were all back at Deaton’s. It was later that night, after the whole pack had cleaned up the scene of the battle and helped search the Operating Theater for any information that could help. Braeden and Derek had taken Liam back to the house, and now Liam was occupying Scott’s and Isaac’s bedroom. He had been in pretty bad shape, both mentally and physically. As his mother had pointed out, being locked in a subbasement for five months would be damaging to anyone.

“Yes,” Scott said patiently; he knew that was not part of the plan that they had gone in with. “We have stripped him of Liam, so he has no rational reason to come after us. We have his lair and access to the Doctors’ materials. We’ve stripped him of most of his pack, except for Tracy.” 

“He’s still dangerous.” Chris argued, but he was not furious. The hunter was trying to understand.

“Of course he’s dangerous, but you and I both know that he’s not stupid. He acts rationally. He certainly can’t menace The Beast now, and he knows we completely outnumber and overpower him. He might get up to some mischief, but that’s why we still have your tracking devices on his vehicle, don’t we?” Scott said amicably. “So now we’ll know where he goes and who he talks to.” 

“You planned that?” Isaac asked incredulously.

“No. I didn’t plan it. Once I got his pack to abandon him, I improvised a new end to the battle for three reasons.” He looked around the room, willing to explain. “First, killing Theo now gives us no advantage in what we have to do. All a dead Theo, or more likely a dead Theo and a dead Tracy, gives us are two more corpses. Don’t you think we have enough of those? Capturing him is just as dangerous as letting him go. Mountain ash doesn’t stop him, and we’ve got no place to keep him unless we sedate him. I know enough about medicine to know that around-the-clock sedation is dangerous, and none of us really understand chimera physiology.” People tended to forget that his mother was a nurse and he was a veterinarian’s assistant.

“Second, I want to prove to the other chimera that they don’t have to be like Theo to be safe. That’s how he controlled them, by isolating them, by convincing them that they had nowhere else to go. I want to show them that there are more options in the world they find themselves than kill or be killed.” He glanced over at Derek, who nodded his agreement. “Third, I made this decision for me. I’m not delusional enough to think I’m going to get through my life without killing anyone, but I’m not going to start unless I absolutely damn well have to. That being said, if the Argents or any hunter believe that Theo needs to be put down, I’m not going to argue with them. I can’t argue that it’s not well within the Code.”

“He killed the sheriff!” Malia shouted from the corner, her eyes blazing furiously. “He has to pay for what he did.”

“This pack doesn’t do vengeance missions, Malia,” Scott said quietly. “Killing Theo won’t stop Stiles from being an orphan. Theo isn’t The Beast. He kills for a purpose, not for the sheer joy of killing.” 

Malia looked at him and then looked down towards the ground. He knew that one day they would have to talk about the Desert Wolf and what Malia intended to do. He decided right that instant that he wasn’t going to stop her, but it would have to be something she would do alone. A pack had to stand for something. 

“Well, I hope all the victims of Theo Raeken rest well in the warm glow of your conscience, Scott. And by that, I include both those that have already been victims and those that will be.” Gerard smiled from his spot on the couch nearest the fireplace. 

“If I thought I was capable of handing out death sentences as a punishment,” Scott growled at him. “I damn well know where I would start.”

Dr. Deaton stood up. “Regardless of people’s feelings, we all agreed to follow Scott’s lead in this. Right now, it is more important that we study the materials we found in the Operating Theater for clues on how to stop Valet. Mr. Argent, if you would come with me? I would like to make use of Lydia’s brain while she is still up.” His mother popped up immediately to object. “And if you would come with us Melissa, to make sure we don’t overtax her?”

Those three left, his mother squeezing his hand, while the others contemplated what he had said. 

Braeden looked up at the clock and rose to her feet. “I don’t know about you, but I’m bushed.” She walked closer to him for a private word. “I can’t say that I agree with you. Any enemy you let walk away is an enemy you’ll fight another day. But then, I’m not you. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Scott nodded. “I do. There are ten thousand things in this world that can kill without a second thought, like swatting at flies with a rolled-up newspaper. I’m not going to be one of them.”

Derek gave him a clap on the shoulder as he left. He promised to come by in the next few days to work with him on his transformation. Malia came up to him, looking something between ashamed and defiant.

Scott pulled her into a hug. “Friends can disagree. Pack can disagree. Okay?” 

“I do. I do disagree,” she stated with her usual bluntness. “But that’s okay.”

They left, leaving only Chris, Isaac, and himself in the room. Without turning to them, Scott guessed out loud. “You’re going after him, aren’t you?”

Chris responded immediately with no shame or reluctance. “Of course we are. He is an accessory to at least ten murders of innocent children along with their kidnapping and torture. He murdered you. He’s demonstrated not one ounce of remorse. He has control of a kanima, and I disagree with your assessment of his possible behavior.” 

Scott rubbed at his face. “Okay. Do you have to do it tonight? Can you hold off for a bit? I need your help with something.” 

Chris turned to Isaac. “Use the trackers to locate him. Follow him, but do not engage.” Isaac nodded and then glanced at Scott. Scott couldn’t tell if he was asking permission as alpha or not, so he nodded as slightly as he could. Isaac grabbed a bag and left.

“You know that just because I don’t want to kill doesn’t mean I think that what you are doing is wrong, Chris. I meant what I said earlier about you.”

“I know.” Chris brushed off their conflict. “What did you need help with?”

“I don’t know if he showed you,” Scott took a deep breath. “But when I spirit walked to Liam, his eyes were blue. I need … I need to know why. And I need someone to be objective about it, okay?”

Chris nodded. “I take it this isn’t going to be easy for you.”

“He’s my beta, and I want to protect him. It’s instinctual, but it is also something I really want to do. I also feel guilty because I bit him without permission and, while I know it was that or let him die, it doesn’t make me feel any better. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be in this mess.“ He shrugged helplessly. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little afraid of him. Yeah, I know it isn’t rational, but I can’t just pretend he didn’t try to kill me.”

Chris and Scott went up to the bedroom. Scott knocked and then went in without waiting for Liam to answer, but he left the door open so Chris could listen in from the outside.

Liam must have heard him come in, because he rolled over and faced the wall. He said nothing, but Scott could hear the tiniest of whimpers coming from the boy. 

Scott sat down on the bed and sighed. Liam needed his parents. He needed therapy. The last thing he needed was another teenager trying to play authority figure. But it was too late for that, wasn’t it? Scott was his alpha, and unless he wanted to boot Liam to the curb and let him go omega, then this conversation was going to have to take place, sooner or later.

“Liam.” Scott spoke gently, with no command attached to the words. “We have to talk. I know you’ve had a bad time of it, but … we have to talk.”

Liam grunted but didn’t roll over to face him. In a voice almost too low to hear, the boy answered “What do you want me to say?”

“First, let’s start with why you won’t look at me.”

“How can I?” Liam’s voice was frustrated. “You know what happened.”

“Yeah. I do.” Scott bit his lip and then continued. He hoped Chris would forgive him for what he was about to say, as it was going to be super uncomfortable. He needed to get Liam to talk to him, and right now his beta didn’t want to. He had to build a bridge. “You never met Allison. You’ve heard people talk about her?” 

“She was Mr. Argent’s daughter. She died.” Liam offered tentatively. 

“She was not only that. She was a great Hunter, and she was pack.” He smiled fondly, even though no one was looking at him. This was a good memory – one of the best. “The first day I met her was the day _after_ I was bitten. I was sitting in class, and she was outside waiting for the assistant principal. I heard her on the phone with her mother; she had forgotten her pen. I gave her one, and that’s how I met her.”

Liam shifted uncomfortably; he probably didn’t know what Scott was getting at.

“Let’s just say that what came next was pretty intense. I didn’t care about much of anything after I met her. The only thing I wanted was to be with her, to spend time with her. I tried to ignore that I had just become a werewolf; I tried to ignore that her father was a werewolf hunter. Mr. Argent didn’t want me to date his daughter; Derek didn’t want me to date a hunter; Stiles didn’t want me to date her for any number of reasons, but he was too good a friend to say it out loud.”

Liam turned to look at him. He did not look well. He was pale, haggard and his hair was long and unkempt. He looked like he had been locked in a basement for five months – because he had been.

“I was in love … I think.” Scott admitted. “It certainly felt like love. And I didn’t care about how much danger I was putting myself in. I didn’t care about how being in love with a werewolf could ruin her life. I thought my love was the most important thing in the world. And maybe it was, but my point is – I wasn’t thinking about it clearly.”

Liam finally caught up to his point. “But you didn’t try to kill your alpha.”

“No, but I thought about it,” Scott answered him sincerely. “Someone told me that if I killed the alpha who bit me, I could become human again. I was convinced that I couldn’t be with her if I was a werewolf, and I had never wanted to be a werewolf.”

“Are you trying to say that I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No. No, you did something wrong. I’m trying to say that I understand, and I can forgive you for making a bad decision. I’ve made bad decisions as well. Both of us, we were in love, we weren’t in control, and we made really dumb decisions.” Scott tried his best to sound sincere. “Theo attacked us, he used those feelings against you, and while it doesn’t excuse what you did it, it does explain it. I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t think I could ever forgive you.”

Liam started crying. It was a release and it wasn’t just because Scott was willing to forgive him. He’d been captive for months and now he was free, and the enormity of what had happened was finally sinking in. Scott reached out and took him into his arms. They’d done this before, and it felt just as right as it did in the past. “You shouldn’t have had to be strong. You shouldn’t have been involved in any of this. I’m sorry for that.”

Liam kept crying for another ten minutes and Scott let him cry it out. After he stopped, he said in a broken voice. “You don’t know everything.”

“Then tell me. Secrets are what got us into this mess in the first place, Liam. Nothing can get better until we talk about it.”

“I killed someone.” Liam turned his head away so he couldn’t look at him again. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.”

Scott’s breath caught in his throat. “I saw your eyes. Tell me what happened.”

“It was the first full moon after ... after that night.” Liam took a big gulping breath. “Theo had taken me after we learned you were in the hospital. He’d wanted me to join his pack. He told me that even if you woke up …” The young werewolf shuddered.

“He told you that I wouldn’t want you anymore. He was wrong.” Scott was firm. “But keep going.”

“I told him to fuck off. It was the full moon and … the door to the basement was open. I thought someone must have left it open. It took me a while, but I broke the chains and made a break for it. And then …” 

Scott waited patiently, holding the boy while he tried to find the words. 

“There was someone blocking the exit, and I thought they had a gun so I just … I just went at them. But he wasn’t a chimera; he was just a guy. And the gun didn’t have any bullets in it. I tore him apart.”

“You were set up.” Scott stated with certainty. “And then Theo told you that there wasn’t any other place for you to go. That your parents wouldn’t understand, that the hunters would come after you.” 

Liam looked up at him. “He told me that you had thrown Stiles out of the pack for killing someone, and you loved him more than anyone. He told me it was his pack or being an omega, and if I was an omega, I’d just hurt more people.”

Scott grimaced. If he could travel through time, he’d go back to that night in the rain and force himself to talk to Stiles more. “I didn’t throw Stiles out of the pack. I … I handled it poorly. I didn’t want to talk to him; I didn’t want him to talk to me. I just wanted what Stiles had done to go away or to never have existed. But things don’t work like that, Liam, it’s one of the reasons you and I are talking right now.” 

Liam sniffled; it looked like he was going to burst into tears again.

Scott couldn’t take it anymore; he was on the verge of crying as well or freaking out or a combination of both. “Get some rest and remember: you’re my friend; you’re my beta; you’re my pack. You always will be.” He stood up, and walked out, turning out the light the moment he left.

When the door was shut and he was sure that Liam couldn’t hear him and that the people don’t the hall couldn’t hear him, he fell to his knees and shifted totally. He didn’t howl, but he felt the urge to just claw the shit out of something. No, not something; someone. If Theo had been there he would have slaughtered him like a baby calf.

Chris stood to the side and watched, impassively, as Scott fought for control. It took a few minutes but finally the alpha’s vision cleared and his claws and fangs retreated back into his flesh. He was breathing heavily, kneeling with his head touching the floor. 

“All those pretty words,” Scott gritted. “And right now, I want nothing more than to rip him in half and drink his blood. I want to kill him, learn how he resurrected the chimera, resurrect him, and then kill him again. How dare he! How dare he!” He looked up and rubbed the tears from his eyes.

Chris was looking at him placidly. 

“Liam is never going to be all right. None of us are ever going to be all right. And I just let him go. _I let him go_.” 

“Following a Code is never easy, even if it is a Code you made for yourself,” Chris reminded him. “If it were, everyone would do it. You know why you chose that code for yourself. The only question is now – can you live with it? Can you follow it?”

Scott slowly pulled himself up from where he was kneeling. He took several deep breaths. “Am I just stupid? How can I expect people to follow something like that?”

“I helped my wife commit suicide, in what I thought was accordance with the Code I followed. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, including burying my daughter. I regret it, every single day, but not because I followed the Code, but because of how we misinterpreted it. When Allison changed the words, she wasn’t actually changing the Code. She was clarifying it. My Code, my family exists to protect others; no one was protected by my wife’s death. Why does your code exist?”

“Because ever since I was bit, the one thing I couldn’t stand was everyone’s belief that I didn’t have a choice any more. That I had to be this or I had to be that. People have to have a chance to change and grow into what they want.” Scott took another deep breath. “When you kill someone, you take away their chance to change.”

Chris pursed his lips. “Yes, you do. Do you think that Theo has the chance to change?”

“I do. I wish I didn’t, but I do.” Scott finally looked Chris in the eye. “What do you have to do about Liam?”

Chris’s face revealed that he immediately knew what Scott was talking about. There was no challenge there. It was a sincere question and they both knew that the answer was going to be terribly important. By the strictest interpretation of the code, Liam was a possible target of the Argents. In a moment of no control, he had murdered an innocent.

“Scott, I have to look into it, and I will, but my family will not be used as a tool of intimidation or assassination. Maybe my father and my sister forgot that, but I have not. He’s sixteen, Scott, and bitten against his will. He had a pre-existing behavioral disorder. Those are all important details. I will look into it, and if I can confirm Liam’s story, it’s just another reason for me to put a bullet in Theo’s skull.” Chris sighed. “We should relax. This isn’t over.”

“No,” Scott replied sadly. “It isn’t.”


	19. And Vice Sometimes by Action Dignified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Liam secure, the pack gets to work. Derek trains Scott to access the full alpha shift.

Two blessedly uneventful days had passed since they had rescued Liam. Chris and Isaac were still on Theo’s trail, but they reported back that they hadn’t had much luck. It seems that Theo knew when a retreat was in order, so he and Tracy had headed off to parts unknown. Chris told him that they would give it a few more days before they gave up the search in order to make sure that the duo hadn’t doubled back. 

Scott paid a stealthy-as-he-could-make-it visit to the high school and talked with Hayden, who had told him that she and the three other chimeras that had left Theo had decided to stick together for a little bit until they knew he wasn’t coming for them. Scott promised to help them as much as he could, but he explained to her about the threat of The Beast. He urged them to run if they encountered the killer in either form. 

Hayden told him in return that Theo had a plan for destroying La Bête, but he hadn’t shared it with anyone. Right now, most of the chimeras were worried about Josh, who had returned to his parents’ home and was having trouble explaining where he had been for seven months. Scott decided that they had enough on their plates getting back to normal lives, so he wasn’t going to ask for their help.

Braeden and Malia performed reconnaissance around the city, checking up on both the FBI and looking for signs of Sebastien Valet. The FBI was busy interviewing people about Scott; Malia had saw them talking to Coach Finstock at the rehabilitation facility. As for the Man of Gevaudan, Valet was very good at hiding; they had found no sign of him.

“What are the chances,” Scott had asked Braeden, “that he’s left town?”

Braeden shook her head. “From what you told me, he wants the Argents and until he gets them, he’s not going to leave. I heard the story from Grandpa Murder, and I know how people behave when focused on vengeance.” She pursed her lips as if debating saying anything more. Finally, she decided that she had to. “And he wouldn’t have done that to your father if he was just going to leave.”

Scott had nodded grimly in agreement. As much as he would like to, he couldn’t disagree and he was worried. If Valet was willing to take an action like that, who else would he choose to hurt?

He was also worried about his reaction to his father’s death, or, rather, his lack of reaction. Theo’s manipulation of Liam had made him so angry that he had changed uncontrollably, but other than his initial outburst at The Beast, he had felt no rage about his father being murdered to frame him. He felt sad, sometimes, and sick to his stomach, but there was no urge for revenge, like Malia mourning her adopted mother and sister. His father had been absent from his life, sure, but he was still his father. He hadn’t really hated him, had he? Was he just a bad son? 

Everyone was busy. Braeden and Malia were going to take his mother to visit the FBI and so he needed to clear out of the house in case they came to search it. Luckily, Derek thought that they could begin working on the alpha form problem. Scott wasn’t happy about it, but he had promised that he would embrace it. He had no real argument against him doing everything he could to end this. 

They took a packed lunch with them. Deaton had an actual picnic basket. It wasn’t a modern plastic and fabric basket but a bright yellow one woven of reeds like you’d see in an old-time illustration. Scott had held it up to the veterinarian before he left for work with a quizzical expression.

“Basket weaving is a relaxing hobby,” Deaton had said, straight-faced. 

Derek had always known his way around the preserve, so they were walking for hours. “We’re going to the very heart of the preserve, where there won’t be anyone around, just in case you manage to take the alpha form and lose control.”

“What about you?” Scott asked. “I mean …” He was hesitant to say it out loud so as to not offend Derek, but if the full alpha form was dangerous, he didn’t want to hurt Derek with it. 

“My wolf form is fast,” Derek assured him. “Really fast. And I know the terrain better than you. I’ll be fine.” 

They sat down in the middle of a grove of trees and a fallen log. Derek was quiet, and Scott let him sit in peace. While he was waiting for Derek to begin, he noticed that there were initials carved into the big fallen tree. Every one of them had the letter “H” for the third initial. 

“Your family used to come here, didn’t they?”

“Every summer as far back as I can remember. It was just something we did.” Derek smiled at the memory. “And I thought it was appropriate to be here for what we have to talk about. I told you that I could become a full wolf because I made peace with myself. What do you think the biggest obstacle to that was?”

Scott glanced down at the trunk. “Your past.”

“More specifically, my guilt over the past. Guilt about what I did to Paige. Guilt about what Kate did to my family. Guilt about leaving Peter here alone and unprotected. Guilt about not protecting Laura. Guilt over Jackson. Guilt over Erica. Guilt over Boyd.” 

Scott shifted uncomfortably. Everyone knew how much of the past Derek had carried around with him. 

“Guilt isn’t actually a bad thing when you let it do what it is supposed to, Scott. If you steal from your friend and you feel guilty about it, it motivates you to make it up to your friend. If you are tempted to steal from your friend again, you will remember the guilt. When you let guilt do what it is supposed to do, you learn from it. It teaches you to be a better person.”

Scott nodded in agreement because it sounded right.

“I wasn’t letting guilt do what it is supposed to do, because I didn’t want to be a better person. I didn’t believe that I deserved to be better. I thought I was supposed to be miserable, so I held onto the guilt because it made me feel miserable.” Derek shook his head. “Do you know when things changed?”

“Jennifer,” Scott suggested. He remembered how things were different after the final confrontation and Derek’s trip away from Beacon Hills.

Derek pointed at him. “One for you. I was fully prepared to add the guilt over not realizing that Jennifer was the Darach to my impressive collection. But, luckily, Isaac pitched a fit the night before the lunar eclipse.” 

“Isaac yelled at you?” Scott asked, incredulously.

“He was distraught; remember, you mom had been taken and you had joined the Alpha Pack. Sometimes people just want to blame someone else for things going wrong. Some of the things he was right about, but there was one thing he was so very wrong about. There was no way for me to know that the English teacher I saved from Boyd and Cora was the Darach. How was I supposed to know that? And then there was one thing that he was very right about; I was doing nothing. I was sitting there feeling sorry for myself and pretending it was because I couldn’t leave Cora.”

Scott shook his head. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about your feelings for Jennifer. It wasn’t as if we knew until Lydia screamed. And, the moment we told you, you believed us.” 

Derek raised both eyebrows in surprise. “The mistletoe helped a bit,” he joked. “But it was during that whole ordeal that I realized that what I chose to do now was more important than what I had done before. I gave up the alpha spark not to make up for the destruction of my family, but to give Cora a future. I went with Jennifer as her Guardian not because I was being manipulated, but because I knew I could help you and everyone else if I did so. I refused to kill Deucalion even though he was responsible for killing Erica and Boyd, because that was neither the person I wanted to be nor do I think that they would want me to be. I stopped letting guilt punish me and started letting it teach me.”

Derek sighed. “A funny thing happens when you let guilt do its job and make you a better person. It goes away.” He patted the trunk with his family’s names on it. “By the time I died at La Iglesias, I felt better than I had in a very, very long time. Yes, I know that was a weird thing to say.”

“Yeah, but we have weird lives.” Scott agreed.

“When I first transformed into a wolf, I was stronger in spirit than I had been in such a long time, even as my body had been weakened by whatever Kate did to me. But I had learned; I had grown.” 

Scott looked down at his hands. “You said that I wouldn’t be able to be like you.”

“You won’t, because you’ll never be completely at peace with being a werewolf. The fear of the wolf, I’m afraid, is inked into your soul.”

Scott couldn’t argue with him about it. “But you think you can help me use the full alpha form anyway.”

“Yes. I think I can. Because fear is like guilt; it has a purpose. My mother used to say ‘Fear is not a prediction; fear is a warning.’”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Scott admitted.

“A prediction says _this will happen_. A warning says _this may happen_.” Derek explained. “We need to get you to treat your fear as a warning and not as a prediction.”

“How will that help me assume full alpha form?”

“There are different reactions to fear. You see a toddler on the edge of a cliff. Fear can paralyze into doing nothing. Fear can make you scream at the parents for being careless. Or, fear can release enough adrenaline so you are quick enough to prevent the toddler from falling. Right now, your fear of losing control, your fear of the wolf, is preventing you from reaching the full shift. We need to get you to where fear triggers that shift.”

Scott thought about this for a moment. “You want me to stop being afraid of what I’ll do in full alpha shift and start being afraid of what happens if I don’t.”

Derek nodded. “Exactly. Let fear do what it is supposed to: move you to act. To do this, we have to talk about why you are afraid of the wolf.”

“Peter,” Scott said quietly. “It’s always been Peter.”

“Not just Peter. Me, too.” Derek remonstrated. “There is no point in pretending that I don’t share some of the blame.”

Scott looked at him. “Uh. You tried to help me when I first turned.”

“Yes. I did. I simply did such a poor job at trying to help you that I hurt you. You were terrified by what was happening to you, what the alpha was trying to make you do, by the dangers you posed to your family and your friends. You didn’t know what was happening, you never wanted what was happening, and you had no idea how it was going to end.” Derek explained. “I am not telling you something you don’t already know.”

“You’re right. I was scared that I was cursed and I was going to lose everyone. I guess that’s what made me so stubborn.” 

“Yes, you were really, _really_ stubborn, but instead of trying to understand your fear, I tried to manipulate you and intimidate you, because I was offended.” Derek admitted.

Scott screwed up his face. “Offended?”

“I told you the bite is a gift; I still believe that. You didn’t know this when we met, but at that point I hated myself more than a little bit. I didn’t think I deserved to be a werewolf, and I would have given everything I had to be the werewolf that my mother would have been proud of. And here comes this snot-nosed teenager who not only hates being a werewolf, but seems determined to make the same exact mistakes that I made.”

“Allison.” Scott smiled sadly. “You’re talking about Allison.”

“Allison wasn’t Kate; I know that now. But back then, every time you talked about Allison, it was like rubbing salt in the wound. I responded in kind.”

Scott held up his hands. “I didn’t even know about you two until Kate came back!” 

“It is water under the bridge now. But tell me what you thought about werewolves during those first few weeks.”

“I was either terrified of you or pissed off at you,” Scott said. “I thought you were a bully who might actually hurt me. But it was the alpha that I thought was a monster, not you.” 

“You said that you felt cursed. You were scared of being like us, weren’t you?” Derek said. “Admit it.”

“Yeah, it’s true. How many times did I almost kill my best friend? How many times did I almost kill my girlfriend?” Scott spoke with honesty. 

“And then, it got worse. The locker room.” Derek spoke gently. 

Scott nodded. He knew exactly what Derek was talking about.

“I never apologized, and I never explained, but I think you understand why I just stood by and watched him do that to you. Why I followed his orders about Jackson.” 

“He wasn’t just an alpha,” Scott replied. “He was family. The only family you thought you had left. If you followed him as a beta should follow an alpha, it was like getting a little bit of the life you should have back.”

Derek smiled. “Yes. I’m sure that understanding this does nothing to make what I did easier for you to swallow.”

Scott whispered. “I’m still terrified of fire.”

“And then, after you saved me from Kate and showed me the truth, what did I do? You believed I took your chance to be human away. I had lied to you about the cure to get your help, but you didn’t know that. You just saw another werewolf scrabbling for power. Why would you trust me? Then I tried to frighten you into joining me, again, when you were already terrified. Really, Scott, I totally botched everything about those first few months.”

Scott shrugged. “I didn’t make it easy.”

“No, you didn’t, but we’re not going over this to point out who was to blame. We’re going over this so you can understand the depths of your own fear of the wolf.”

“Okay. So, I was afraid of you and Peter. And I have to admit, Jackson and the alpha pack were pretty damn terrifying as well.” Scott pointed out. “By the time I performed the sacrifice, I had been pretty much afraid of every werewolf I had ever met.” 

“Except, by that point, you weren’t really afraid of Peter or me or my pack. I would argue by that point, you weren’t afraid of the alpha pack, either.”

“I wasn’t?” Scott was confused.

“You knew us as individuals. You knew that Peter was driven to madness by the fire and the coma. You knew, just as you told me, that I was trying to do my best. You had become, if not friends, allies with my betas. You had heard the twins’ story. You had heard the story about Deucalion from Gerard.”

“His story was total bullshit. I got the real story from Deaton.” 

“Exactly. You knew us as people and you weren’t afraid of us as people. So tell me what frightened you.”

Scott sat on the log and thought back to that time period, from the time he was bit to the time he went under the water. Derek was right. He had stopped being afraid of Derek; he even liked him. He had stopped being afraid of Peter; he hated him. He felt sorry for the twins and for the man Deucalion had been. 

Finally, he announced. “I was afraid I’d end up like just like everyone else. Obsessed with power and killing. Monsters.” Scott added quickly. “I’m sorry for saying that.”

“We need to work with the truth here, Scott. And that’s the truth. Even though you’ve accepted that you’re a werewolf. Even though you’ve accepted that you can do good things by being a werewolf, you’re still afraid that inside every werewolf, including you, is a monster waiting to come out.” 

Scott didn’t answer. 

“I am not going to say that your stand against killing is just about that fear. I know you better than that. But I think that part of it is the fear of turning into a monster.”

Scott looked up into the sky. “I wonder if that is why I turned away from Stiles that night. I wonder if I was afraid of him being a monster, and if that was my fault.”

“If a human could become a monster, what hope could you have?” Derek said seriously. 

Scott didn’t argue but thought about it. He had done exactly what Derek had talked about. He had let fear paralyze him. Instead of being who Stiles needed, he had run away. “So, I know what I am afraid of. What next?”

Derek stood up. “Take off your clothes. We’re going to try a shift.”

Scott was alarmed but did it anyway. When they were both naked, Derek led them away from the trunk and down a game trail to a small pond. 

“I want you to think about your mother, Scott,” Derek said. “Picture her in your mind.”

Scott grimaced. “I usually don’t do that when I’m naked.” Derek gave him the Eyebrow of Disapproval. “Okay, okay.” He took a deep breath and focused on his mother.

“Now. You know what La Bête did to your father.” Scott gasped as Derek went on. “Think about him killing your mother the same way.” 

“No. Why … why would I do that?”

“This is what you have to do. You have to be afraid of what will happen if you don’t shift. You can’t stop The Beast as you are right now,” Derek spoke commandingly. “If he catches your mother out somewhere, he’ll kill her to get at you. Or he’ll kill her because he wants to. He’ll kill anyone. And you can’t stop him unless you can shift.”

Scott remembered fighting Valet in human form while Scott was shifted in the usual way. What Derek was saying was true. If Valet turned into The Beast, he’d toss Scott around like a rag doll. Scott shifted into his normal alpha form; Derek grabbed his head and bent it down so he could see his reflection in the water.

“Not enough, Scott, not nearly enough.” Derek’s voice was firm. “He’ll kill your mother; he’ll kill Deaton. He’ll tear them apart!” 

Scott felt his heart racing in his chest and his blood pumping in his veins. As a reflex, he began to focus on calming his heart down.

“No, Scott, you can’t calm down – you have to push it. You need the wolf, Scott, all of it. Don’t think about what will happen if you can’t change back; don’t think about hurting people if you can’t control yourself once you change.” Derek’s pressure on the back of his head was tremendous. “Think about what will happen if you don’t change. The Beast will kill your mother, Deaton, Chris, Malia, Stiles, everyone! That’s what he is! Aren’t you afraid of seeing that? All the people you love dead at his hand? That is what will happen If. You. Don’t. Change!”

Scott flashed back to Sebastien Valet’s words from the other night. _“Everyone is good at something, I believe the saying goes. As for killing, I enjoy it. Young people, old people, the just and the unjust, the strong and the weak. I found that if you seek the clearest expression of existence, it is found in ending the existence of another._ ” Derek wasn’t lying. It was true. It was all true. He pushed his heart rate to go further. He felt his terror and his anger grow stronger . He couldn’t fail again. He couldn’t let people die because he was too weak.

Scott howled when he felt his jaws distend, when his bones began to crack and reshape themselves, when his legs twisted and warped, folding back into themselves like an animal's. He was growing. In the pond’s reflection, he towered over Derek now and his face wasn’t even remotely human. It was a wolf’s head on a grotesque torso, covered with dark fur. Eyes like red pits of molten iron. Claws like knives. He could feel the power surging through his form. 

Let The Beast try to take his territory! Let the Beast try to hunt his family! Let the Beast try to kill his pack! He’d show that fool what type of werewolf he was.

If his jaws could have bent that way, he would have smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, I do like cliffhangers. Who would have thunk it?


	20. Where Be These Enemies?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott explores the new alpha form, but there are signs of trouble ahead.

Scott studied himself in the pond’s surface. He watched as he moved his head back and forth, his muzzle partly open so he could see his fangs and teeth. A little part in the back of his brain told him he should be utterly and completed freaked out by the fact that he had a muzzle. That same part of his brain thought he should be terrified that instead of some extra hair along his jaw line he had fur everywhere. It was dark brown but it shaded to a lighter reddish brown near the ends of his limbs and his muzzle. His legs were canine with wide pads and he could extend claws into the dirt, but his torso and arms were much more human, though still covered in fur. 

He wasn’t freaked out or terrified at all. In fact, he felt pretty good. He stretched out one clawed finger – the claws were twice as long as they usually were – and touched the surface of the water, ripples erasing the image. Standing up, Scott stretched to his full height. He was the tallest person he knew now.

He was certainly taller than Derek who was standing next to him and looking at him. The other wolf smelled of wariness but also of pleasure and Scott thought that there was a hint of a smile on his face. Derek should smile; he had gotten Scott to transform on the first try.

Scott leant down and put his muzzle on the side of Derek’s jaw. He wasn’t sure why he did; it just felt like the right thing to do. He knew he was trying to communicate. **Derek. Pack. Teacher. Brother.** He pushed playfully, tilting Derek’s head to the side. 

Derek was speaking then, putting a hand on his chest. He used a lot of words that Scott found it hard to focus on. It was much easier to breathe in his scent and read how he was standing than to listen to all the words. Finally, Scott put together Derek wanted him to change again, to change back into a lesser form. 

Scott chuffed from his lungs and turned away. He was going to find more of his pack, but he wasn’t going to change back. **No. Why? This form is good. It’s better.** He began loping through the forest. He took the direct route back to where his pack was, because underbrush didn’t cause him any problems. He was simply too strong to be slowed down.

He could feel Derek running behind him, his scent becoming tinged with worry. Scott decided not to run as fast as he could, because that would make Derek have to turn into a wolf when he obviously wanted to talk to him. He was still talking to him, but Scott was barely paying attention. **Why not stay like this? All I ever do when I am smaller and weaker is worry.**

Scott could tell he was getting closer to the other members of the pack which meant they were getting closer to Deaton’s house. **Liam. Pack. Lydia. Pack. Find them. Now.** It was just an instinct he was experiencing; he thought that maybe there was something deeper behind the urgency, but that just wasn’t important right now. Seeing if they were safe was the most important.

Since he wasn’t rushing, Derek managed to keep up with him in human form. Derek’s scent was growing more and more tinged with worry but he had stopped talking so much. Maybe he realized that the words he was saying didn’t mean much to Scott. 

They must have scented Liam at the same time because Scott pulled up to a stop and Derek reached out and touched him on the arm. Scott chuffed. Sure he could smell it. Liam must be in a thicket up there, and he was probably hiding, anxious and worried as well. **Why did everyone worry so much?**

Scott snorted in annoyance again to Derek, who was urging him with both hands and so many words to move with stealth. But Derek is pack and brother and teacher, so Scott finds himself going along. Stealth isn’t easy when you’re this big, but he can do it. 

Liam senses them, of course, but it would have been far too late if they had been enemies. His beta was staring at the house with cars in front of it, almost on very edge of his range of vision. He had with him a pile of things that Scott couldn’t care enough about to recognize. When the younger man turns and sees Scott creeping into the thicket, the air is filled with the scent of his fear.

Scott makes another exasperated snort. **He doesn’t know me. Needs to use his nose.** He turns his head to the side and lets his eyes speak to his identity. Derek’s right behind him.

Derek and Liam started talking with each other. Liam couldn’t believe it was Scott and Derek was assuring him. Liam then told Derek about people from the FBI being at the house, looking for Scott. Scott could follow that much but there were a lot more unnecessary words. Instead of paying that much attention, Scott was studying Liam.

Liam, for all his lack of using his nose, was not looking directly at Scott. He smelled frightened but more than that, there were elements of anger and frustration. **Angry at me? Why? I’m not hurting him.** He took a few more steps forward and inhaled deeply, trying to understand what was going on.

Scott suddenly grew irritated; Liam shouldn’t be angry with him. Was he challenging him? He lifts his lips in a challenging snarl. **Submit.** He hadn't done anything for Liam to be angry with him about.

Liam’s scent shifted from a mixture to pure terror. Derek took a step in front of him and explained what that gesture meant and what Liam should do. Scott was confused; apparently, he’d never made Liam submit before? Or he hadn’t done it when Liam wasn’t out of control?

Liam did what Derek suggested, took a step forward and bent his neck. He still smelled of terror and his heart was going way to fast. **This was no good. He shouldn’t be afraid. Pack. We’re pack.** For the first time since he had taken this form, Scott wished he could speak, because Liam wasn’t acting right.

Dimly, he recalled other times when Liam had been terrified. What had he done then? Scott reached out, really quickly with a clawed had, grabbed Liam by the shoulder, and pulled him close to him. It was a human gesture and it seemed weird, but if it helped Liam he would do it. 

Liam’s heart rate skyrocketed until he was trembling like a rabbit. Scott narrowed his eyes and licked the top of Liam’s head to calm him down. This shouldn’t be frightening him. Slowly, slowly, Liam did calm. He said something about how weird this was and then returned the hug. 

After that, Derek came up to him and talked quietly next to him. He still wanted him to change back, which Scott didn’t understand, but eventually he got through that he could help his pack better if he were human. Scott snorted. **How would it be better? It’s so weak. But Derek’s pack. He knows more.**

Scott let go of Liam and tried to think about returning to human form. For a moment, he was puzzled. **How do I do that? It would be better just to stay like this.** Then he felt it. There was a part of him that felt drawn back to being human. If he wanted to stay in this form, he would have to destroy that part of him. He considered it, but according to his pack, they needed him to be human.

The transformation was just as disturbing as it was before. Scott’s mind came back into focus and he felt hungry and tired at the same time. 

“Oh, shit,” Scott said out loud. “That was really, really weird.”

Liam had stepped away. “You’re telling me!” He was no longer freaked out, but he did have that wide-eyed thing going on. 

Derek let out a long sigh of relief. “I didn’t expect you to do it on the first try, Scott. I was afraid you might have gone too deep.”

Scott sat down on the ground. He was suddenly aware that he was naked again. “I kinda of think differently. Do you think differently in wolf form, Derek? It’s like – I stopped thinking of things that happened before or will happen. I was like – totally in the now. I had memories, but I didn’t use _them_.”

Derek nodded. “It’s true. You don’t think much about the past or future, because you’re focusing on the wolf part of your nature. It’s one of the dangers. “

“I didn’t want to change back,” Scott shivered. “I only did it because of you guys.”

Liam went and dug out some clothes for them out of the pile. “We took all your clothes out of the house before the FBI got there, so they wouldn’t think you were here.” Liam had learned some avoidance skills from Stiles, after all.

“It’s always a danger, Scott, even for me. Being a wolf is simpler, it is less painful, it is less troublesome. But we’re not wolves, and we have to respect both parts of ourselves.” Derek looked at the clothes. “I don’t think anything there will fit me. I’ll go back for the basket and our original clothes.” Without another word he transformed into a wolf and raced back into the woods.

Scott put on the clothes Liam had gotten for him. “Thanks. I’m sorry … about that back there.”

“About what?” Liam still wasn’t looking at him. 

“The whole dominance thing,” Scott admitted. “I … I don’t want to offer an excuse, but I thought you were challenging me.”

Liam scrunched up his face. “How?”

“It seemed like you were mad at me, and I didn’t like it very much.” Scott shrugged. “Things, like Derek was saying, seem really simple, and I know they’re not.”

“No. No, I’m not angry with you. How could I be angry with you?” Liam protested, but he still wasn’t looking at him. “ _You_ should be angry with _me_.” 

Scott tilted his head in confusion. “I told you why I wasn’t …”

“You’re not my dad, okay!” Liam responded, angrily. “You don’t have to act like you are. You don’t have to forgive me. You’ve more than …” Liam bit his lip and turned away again.

Scott didn’t know what to say. He didn’t understand Liam’s outburst. He opened his mouth to talk to him again but then closed it. They waited in silence. It was very worrying to Scott, but he didn’t want to press it.

Eventually, Derek returned and they waited quietly until the FBI vehicles, which Scott clearly noticed and identified now that he was back to human form. It was a little frightening to him how easily he just discarded things like worrying about the FBI or college or the fact that they didn’t really know if he could stop The Beast. It was just like a switch had turned off.

What frightened him a lot is how much he enjoyed flipping that switch. Derek didn’t say anything more but when they met eyes, Scott realized he knew. He wondered how many times had Derek just wanted to slip away in the middle of the night and become a wolf forever. But neither of them had that choice.

When they got back inside, Liam went up to his room while Malia, Braeden and his mother sat around the kitchen table. His mother did not look totally upset, so Scott took that as a win. He grabbed her hand as Braeden took the lead. She was the person with the most experience in law enforcement.

“Their case so far is really circumstantial, Scott.” Braeden began. “They are trying to connect you to all the killings of the last five years, arguing that the Sheriff knew that you were involved but hid that connection.”

Derek nodded. “In a way, that’s true.”

“However, they’ve not been able to find any eyewitnesses or any forensic evidence. Noah destroyed anything that could have tied any member of the pack or the Argent family to the cases, and he did a thorough job.” 

Everyone around the table couldn’t help but share a moment of sadness. They had all known the Sheriff and knew what a good man he was. 

“That’s the good news. The bad news is that the circumstantial evidence is piling up. It’s not enough for a warrant, but it is going to keep you as a person of interest. Your mother may have stalled them for a bit by claiming that she didn’t know where you were now, but you were with her the night of the attack.”

“It’s not _exactly_ a lie,” his mom tried to make a joke about it, but he could smell her anxiety.

“So, I have to do all this stuff without getting spotted by the police,” Scott said. “I can do that. Should I find somewhere else to stay?” 

Braeden nodded. “That’s my advice. I don’t know how long before they put a man on this house, but I know that they will put a man on this house. Anyone who lives here has to be careful when contacting you.” 

Scott scratches his head. “I’ll think of something.”

Braeden hesitates and then starts speaking once more. “Scott, this is going to be hard for you to hear, but I think it is time you start thinking about what happens after we deal with The Beast. You really only have two options.” Braeden looks at Derek and then Melissa and then back at Scott. “You need to think about leaving Beacon Hills.”

“What?” Scott asked.

“No!” His mother said, firmly. 

“Your only other option is to cooperate with the FBI’s investigation, and that is going to be something, while not as deadly as fighting the Beast, just as dangerous. Bureau agents tend to get very, very focused when one of their agents go down. It is a universal trait of law enforcement. They are going to work every trick in the book to try to nail you for everything and anything.”

Braeden read the look of fear on Scott’s face and the mutinous, protective look on his mothers. She sighed. “I don’t see what else you can do.” 

“I didn’t kill my father,” Scott stated in a hard tone of voice.

“You can repeat that from now until twenty years, but that isn’t going to convince them of the truth,” said Gerard Argent, coming out of his bedroom. Things instantly became tense. “In order to avoid revealing things that shouldn’t be revealed, you are going to have to lie constantly, lie effectively, and lie creatively. Or you will expose the entire supernatural world to the FBI, and that still won’t insure your freedom.”

Scott stared at the surface of the coffee table between them before studying the reactions of the others. His mother and Derek scowled at Gerard who seemed totally unfazed by their hatred. Braeden, on the other hand, looked reluctant to continue.

Scott asked her directly. “You agree with him don’t you?”

Braeden nodded slowly. “These are professional investigators. These aren’t county police. Even if you don’t cooperate, all they need is one eyewitness or one piece of forensics and they’ll fill out a warrant. Circumstantial evidence isn’t enough but it is still evidence; they’ll hope to get you in for interrogation and find actual real evidence then. ”

“The fact remains,” Gerard went on, accusingly, “with your cooperation or without it, you run the risk of exposure. And you know this isn’t about you – it’s about everyone you know that belongs to the supernatural. Do you want to take the chance of exposing them?” Gerard sneers, but not at Scott, but at Derek. “Though I do know you have some natural talent in deceiving people for a greater goal.”

Derek slowly and deliberately gives Gerard Argent the middle finger. It wasn’t actually very mature of him, but Derek has earned that right. 

“No.” Melissa stood up, angrily. “Scott is not going to give anything else up for other people. He’s going to finish school, he’s going to go to college, and he’s going to have a life. This means that he’ll have to repeat senior year, and that’s fine. The FBI can’t possibly have any information that he’s a murderer because he’s not.”

“Mom,” Scott started. 

“Don’t ‘Mom’ me. How much have you already given? You’ve been hurt, stabbed, in a coma, and even dead a few times. You’ve skipped so much school that I don’t know how you’ve kept your grades up. I should be worried about you knocking some girl up, not who is trying to shoot you this week! No. You aren’t giving anything else up.” She glared straight at Gerard Argent. “I say that ‘everyone that belongs to the supernatural’ can find their own ways of coping with it. You’re done.”

Gerard Argent opened his mouth. “And if you say one word, you old fart, I’ll punch you right in the face, necessary or not!” His mom stormed out of the room. Scott got up to follow her, but the look on everyone else’s faces made him sit back down.

Derek tilted his head to one side. “Your mother’s upset, and she has a right to be upset, but that doesn’t change anything.” He was trying to be consoling.

Braeden and Gerard were both unimpressed with his mother’s sentimentality, but the mercenary had at least the politeness not to mention it. “All the motherly concern in the world doesn’t change the facts, Scott,” Gerard pointed out with a grim satisfaction. 

“What do you care?” snapped Scott, totally sick of the old man’s presence. “All you want is to destroy The Beast and use all of us to do it.” 

“That’s right,” Gerard shot back. “That’s all I care about, but you need to remember what you are dealing with. As powerful as Valet is, he is still an omega. No doubt that is what drives his need to kill, but he purposefully and deliberately chooses not to rely on anyone else. He killed the Doctors even though they were ridiculously powerful and dedicated to his cause, because he works _alone _. He understands now that we are more powerful than him together, so he will seek to neutralize that power by chipping away at our alliance.” The old man looked thoughtful. “Framing you for your father’s murder shows a degree of comfort with the modern world and strategic thinking that doesn’t bode well for us. We can’t let sentimentality give him the victory.”__

__Derek ground his teeth. “You’re saying that this is what he wants to happen.”_ _

__“It’s what I would do,” Gerard answered back, confidently. “The longer we wait, the more opportunities we give him to act. Wolves isolate the weakest members of the herd.”_ _

__Scott got up. “Then instead of working my mother into a frenzy, why don’t we figure out a way to get Valet now.” He turned to Braeden. “I’ll give it some thought, Braeden. Can I talk to you later about my options?”_ _

__“Sure,” the mercenary answered. “A lawyer would be better.”_ _

__Scott accepted that and resolved to talk to Chris later about lawyers. He knew the Argents had ones that knew about the supernatural and could be trusted to protect it. They talked for a while but they did not get anywhere. The trouble was that they didn’t know where Valet was staying. They knew he had no allies and they knew he was working alone. Scott was opposed to the idea that they try to bait him. They planned to get together tomorrow. Braeden, Malia and Derek left. Scott, left alone on the couch, opened his laptop._ _

__There was only one message there. At first, he thought it must have been from Stiles, due to the address, but it looked like it was from another inmate at the county jail. Frowning, he opened, and then realized that maybe opening up unknown e-mails was stupid._ _

__The message was from Stiles, because only Stiles could have left it. But Scott had to wonder why Stiles had somehow managed to use another inmate’s address. The message was short._ _

__**Scotty. Trust me.** _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheriff's name is Noah! Sheriff's name is Noah! Yeahhhhhh!


	21. See, What a Scourge is Laid Upon Your Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Isaac have a talk under the moon; an important development changes the situation with the FBI.

Scott relaxed on the roof of the old Argent House two nights later. That had been Chris’s solution to the whole problem with the FBI possibly watching Deaton’s house. The hunter had never actually sold the old house, and it was disconnected from any utilities and empty of all furniture. He and Isaac had moved in with a small generator and sleeping bags; it was like a weird sort of camping. They were careful when they left, always parking their vehicles in the garage or a few blocks away. For security reasons, they had to make the house look like it was still deserted.

It made Scott feel nostalgic, because he had plenty of practice sneaking into and out of this house. What he and Isaac are doing right now was also nostalgic, but he wasn’t going to share that with Isaac. He was lying on the roof with his head on Isaac’s chest and Isaac had his arms draped around him. The moon and the stars shone brightly on this warm spring night. Scott remembered a night like this, what seemed like a century ago, but it had only been two years.

Would she be happy for us? He thought to himself. Would she be okay with me and Isaac? Scott liked to think that she would be. Allison had only ever wanted the people she cared about to be happy and safe. 

He pushed himself up so he could look into Isaac’s eyes. This caused the other man to shift. “Something bothering you?” 

The last thing that Scott wanted to bring up tonight was Allison. He shook his head. “It’s okay. I don’t want to ruin this.” 

Isaac laughed and poked him in the ear with his finger. “Talking to me about your problems won’t ruin this. I want to know.”

Scott considered for a moment. Isaac was being sincere, but he still wasn’t ready to talk about her with him. He decided to go for something else that was bothering him. “I don’t know what to do with Liam. I thought I was doing okay, but he’s hiding something from me. Part of me wants to drag it out of him, and part of me thinks that doing so will just make things worse.”

Isaac slid his finger down from Scott’s ear and rested it lightly on his neck. It was meant to be a comforting gesture. Scott could feel that there was a degree of hesitation in Isaac, before he spoke again. “Oh, that’s pretty simple.” There was a long pause. “You ruined his life.”

Scott sat up straight; he felt stung. “What?”

“Scott, don’t get mad, but you did. What has happened to him since you bit him? Assassins and berserkers tried to kill him, his I.E.D. can now get someone killed, the first girl he ever fell in love with was killed and then resurrected into a bad guy, he committed attempted murder, he committed manslaughter, his parents think he’s run away, and he was held prisoner by a psychopath for five months. That alone would put ninety-nine percent of humanity into therapy for the next decade, but he’s always going to be a werewolf, and he’s always going to be a target for people trying to get your power.”

Scott opened his mouth to protest but he couldn’t find any words to say. ‘I didn’t mean to’ sounded so _inadequate_.

Isaac reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. “And what’s worse – he can’t even hate you. He knows, everyone knows, that you only did it so he wouldn’t die. You didn’t make Sean Walcott panic and try to eat him. You were trying to save him, and you did save him. You’ve been there for him, you’ve cared for him, you’ve been patient and kind. So now, not only did you ruin his life, but if he hated you for it, it’d be just another thing he’s doing wrong.” Scott didn’t fight Isaac as he pulled him down so his head was once again sitting on the taller boy's chest.

“Don’t you hate Peter?” Isaac asked him softly.

“I do,” Scott answered truthfully. “I try not to think about it, because I’m also afraid of him, but mostly I hate him.” 

“Doesn’t it feel good to hate someone who hurt you?” Isaac certainly wasn’t just talking about Scott or Liam. “Even though you know that Peter was acting mostly out of madness and instinct? That he bit you because you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“That makes it worse.” Scott said. “He didn’t even …” He was going to say that Peter didn’t even mean to. His throat constricted. “Oh, God. How do I fix this?”

“You can’t,” Isaac said and kissed the top of his head. “You can’t fix it. You can’t do any more than you’ve already done. You’re going to have to let him work it out for himself, or he has to get help from other people.”

“What’s the point …?”

Isaac interrupted him. “What’s the point of being powerful if you can’t help everyone? Scott, you’re a werewolf, not an angel.”

Scott grumbled and was rewarded with Isaac rubbing his neck and shoulders. It was a nice way to lose an argument.

“I may not be an angel,” Scott said eventually, “but it looks like I’m going to be a fugitive. Gerard’s right isn’t he? I can’t stay here.”

“I don’t like admitting the Gerard’s right about anything,” answered Isaac, “but he may be right about this. You should … you should come with me.”

Scott turned his head to try to look into Isaac’s face. “Where?”

“France. Mr. Argent could do for you what he did for me. Get you into school, so you can go to college. You could … train with me.”

“Me? Be a werewolf hunter?”

“You’re practically an Argent anyway, if the way Chris and your mom look at each other is any indication.” Isaac reasoned. “Would it really be so bad?” 

Scott shook his head. “I don’t know, Isaac. It’s not really me. I don’t want to be the person who passes judgment on other people. I know it’s necessary. I know it’s important, but … I don’t know if I can do it.” He found Isaac’s arm and squeezed it. “That doesn’t mean I don’t understand why you did it or that I disapprove.”

“So what are you going to do?” 

“I don’t know. I only know what I don’t want to do. I don’t want to lose anybody else. I don’t want you to go back to France, if I can’t be there. I don’t want to leave my mom or miss her wedding. I want to be here when Stiles gets out and Kira comes back. I want to help Liam and Lydia get better. I don’t want Derek, Malia and even Braeden to go back on the road.” He finished with a joke. “I don’t want Gerard here.”

Isaac laughed, bright and merry. “Yeah, I think everyone is pretty done with him. But that’s not a plan.” He then turned Scott’s head so he could kiss him. “That’s for saying you don’t want me to leave.”

There’s a quite a bit more of ‘thank you-s’ and ‘you’re welcome-s’ delivered in in the form of kisses for a while. This was the best thing, the silent exchange of feelings: with you, I’m safe; with you, I’m happy; with you, nothing else matters. 

After a while, they went back to lying against each other. The stars whirled overhead and the moon swam in their light. 

*****

Scott knew that Lydia was feeling better; she was plotting. 

She was still physically weak, but she could walk to the restroom unaided. Given a few more weeks she should be back to normal physically. That wasn’t her concern on this day, though. Lydia sat across from him with a notebook and a pencil.

“It was a good thing that I had most of my course work done before senior year,” she confessed. 

Scott screwed up his face. “Then why were you taking classes at all?”

“Two reasons, mostly. They were fun and interesting classes. We’re also pack, aren’t we? I won’t be going to college until …” She paused, momentarily. Scott could tell that she was thinking of Stiles and Kira, but mostly of Stiles. “Until we all do.”

Malia gave out a short bark of laughter from the living room. 

Lydia did not allow dissension to her intentions. “This year is a wash, Malia, but that doesn’t mean anything. We all have perfectly valid excuses for what happened.” Lydia had pointed out that a kidnapping ring would give all three of them a perfect excuse. She was plotting it out right now with a little help from Chris and Braeden. “There is no reason why you shouldn’t go to college.”

“Maybe I don’t want to go to college, if there’s just more math.” Malia shot back. 

Lydia gave Scott a fond eye-roll. Lydia had decided that getting Malia situated would be her primary project during her recovery period. As she had explained, it would help Malia, and it would help her. Win-win.

“She’ll come around,” Lydia explained. She then continued working on her plans. “So,” Lydia said after a bit, “you and Isaac?”

“Uhm. Yes. I thought you needed to concentrate …”

“Please, Scott, the moment I can’t quiz someone on their love life while plotting world domination is the day they take away my title as Queen of Beacon Hills.” She gave him a smirk while not even looking up from her reading. “So, I honestly thought it would be Stiles first.”

“Stiles first for what?”

“I thought Stiles would be the first boy to make out with you. Or maybe he would have made out with Derek. It was a toss-up.” Lydia brought up a new search for established kidnap rings in California. “There was always that pesky age gap though.”

“What?” Scott repeated, thankfully he hadn’t been drinking his soda when she said that.

“It’s obvious that sexuality is a fluid construct. It’s the height of silliness to assume that we are locked into particular sex roles even as everything else changes around us. One day, we’ll dispense with labels entirely, but right now, we have to deal with an immature society.” She took some notes. “You sure about him though? Loads of baggage.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m not exactly baggage free.” He blushed so furiously. “Is this an ambush? Is there something you want to share?”

Lydia gave him a dead-pan stare. “You don’t think, once I managed to shed my fear of social rejection, that I’d let something as outdated and preposterous as dead-white-male sexual categories hold me back?”

“No, nothing holds you back. So, you’ve made out with a girl.” Scott smirked. 

“Damn right,” Lydia replied. Because she was both mean and a good friend, she waited until he was actually taking a drink of soda before she added, as an afterthought. “And technically, you were broken up at the time.” 

Werewolf or not, coughing up a liquid through your nose was painful and distracting. Lydia simply smirked. Then she paled and closed her eyes for a moment. 

“What’s wrong?” Scott wiped his mouth and sat up. 

“Just a wave of dizziness. They still happen, even though they are happening less and less frequently. I’m glad you came through when you did; I don’t know how much longer the window was open.”

“Window?” Scott asked. 

“We’re meant for one world or the other. Being alive in the land of the dead and being dead in the land of the living puts a strain not only on our bodies but also our minds. Eventually, I’d have had to remain there. You did save my life, Scott, and it’s not the only time.” She smiled. “I guess that’s why I like you.” 

“Well, I’m not ready to stop liking you, so you need to take care of yourself and get better.” Scott answered. He watched her to see if she was okay.

“I just wish I could be of more help. My powers … they’re not working right now. You know that, don’t you?” She sounded both frustrated and embarrassed.

“Deaton suggested that might happen.”

“It’s like they’re worn out, exhausted. It’s annoying; what’s the point in being a banshee if I can’t actually do what banshees do?” She tapped her pen on the table.

“You’re more than just that. You’re the smartest person I know. You’re one of the most insightful people I know. I need both of those qualities.” He reached out and took her hand. It didn’t matter to him that she couldn’t presently warn someone about their impending deaths. 

Lydia smiled back at him and Malia called out from the living room: “Get a room!” It was all in good fun.

“You’re still going to college, Malia.” Lydia replied.

“You’re not my mom!” Malia shouted back; there was a whine of hesitation. “Well, you’re not Scott’s mom!”

All three of them burst into laughter. They passed the afternoon that way, Scott going into the living room to watch television with Malia. They didn’t need to be doing anything or even talking. It was fine for Scott and Malia to just sit together. Scott wished he wouldn’t have to sneak out of the house later that night, but it was a small price to pay to spend time with friends.

It was getting near on six o’clock and no one was home. He wrangled Malia to help him start dinner; it was going to be spaghetti because that was one of the few things he knew how to cook. He also asked Liam if he wanted to help, and, much to his relief, his beta was willing.

Sometimes you had to take the smallest of steps to get to somewhere good.

It was nearly 6:30 p.m. and no one was home yet. Scott motioned to Lydia. “You should call someone. Everyone should be home by now. I’d do it, but …” He shrugged. They didn’t know if the FBI was listening in somehow.

Lydia got Deaton on the first try. They had a brief conversation. “They’re all together. No one’s hurt, and they’re on the way back.”

Scott tried to brush it off, but he was worried. If they were all together, something had happened. Something that they didn’t want to tell him about. Still, they’d have dinner ready when they got home.

Deaton’s car, Chris’s SUV, and Derek’s truck pull in together, one after another. Scott watched them from the kitchen window. Each and every one of them had grim faces, even Deaton, and if Deaton was showing emotion, he knew this was going to be bad. 

Maybe the five of them (his mother, Chris, Deaton, Derek, and Isaac) didn’t realize that he saw them from the window, but by the time they came in they had tried to lighten up. Scott let them do it; he knew they would tell them eventually.

Dinner was a quiet affair, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Scott tried to keep the discussion going but he knew that something was weighing on the adults, and only Liam might be missing that, because he had enough on his own mind.

Finally, Malia said bluntly, because that was Malia’s approach to everything. “All right. What’s wrong?”

Everyone looked up. Scott kept eating. “They have bad news, but they don’t want to tell us. No one is coming to kill us this minute,” he said around a bite of spaghetti, “so I am guessing it is going to be something painful but not particularly life threatening.”

Malia frowned. “Well, they should just tell us. It’s not like everything isn’t terrible already.”

Chris shook his head and offered a small smile. “You’re right. It’s not good news, but it is not necessarily bad news.”

Deaton said calmly. “I am unable to see an upside to it.” 

Isaac suddenly frowned and threw his fork onto his place; the scent of anger surges over the table. Under the table, Melissa has reached out and grabbed his hand. Scott felt thrills of dread and anticipation climb up his spine.

“What’s going on, Chris?” Scott knew that no matter how bad it was Mr. Argent would tell him the truth. 

“Stiles was released from the county jail this morning, Scott.” Chris said simply. “He walked out of there a free man.”

Scott felt a smile burst out from him. “Why is everyone acting like one of the Dread Doctor’s got back up and started walking around? This is great news. If you guys remember, I’ve been trying to get that done for weeks now.”

His mother squeezed his hand under the table, and he read the looks on their faces. For some reason, this was not good news. He thought maybe Isaac might wolf out right there and then, he was so tense. Even Derek looked … upset. 

Chris Argent continued in his very calm voice. “Stiles was released into federal custody. He’s with the Bureau now.”

Scott looked between people. Now, there had been many times in the past when people have accused Scott of being – not the sharpest tool in the shed. He understood that and he understood where it came from. When something was important to him – something that really mattered – he could be very focused. Focused to the point of someone having to point out the obvious. This time it was Isaac. A very angry Isaac. 

“He turned state’s evidence on you, Scott.” Isaac’s eyes blazed yellow. “He made a deal with the FBI and he threw you under the bus.”

“No,” Scott spoke, strangely serene. “He didn’t.”

His denial pretty much stunned everyone at the table. Even Deaton looked a little off his mark.

“Scott, the reason we were late is I spent a great deal of time with our contacts. Stiles has made a deal to give them evidence on you. In response, they’ll have his record expunged. It is … “ Chris sighed. “ It is a pretty good deal.”

“Okay,” Scott said, and then he ate the last bit of his spaghetti. 

Everyone was staring at him now in shock. Maybe they were expecting a bit more emotional at the news.

“Stiles warned me. He told me to trust him, so that’s what I am doing,” Scott raised his hand to cut off their protests. “There are only three possibilities here.”

“The first one is that Stiles has a plan, and he wants me to trust him on it. I can do that.” He shrugged and reached for a piece of garlic bread. “The second one is that he realizes I’m screwed either way, and he’s using the FBI to get his life back. Since I never wanted him in jail in the first place, that’s okay by me.”

Everyone was still staring at him. It seemed that other people weren’t ready to come to that conclusion.

“The third possibility is that he’s angry and this is his revenge, which you have to admit, would be a pretty damn good one.” Scott took a bite out of the bread and chewed it slowly. When he swallowed he went on. “If this is true, well … that’s something that I can’t think about right now. Okay?” 

Scott was actually biting the inside of his cheek, but he looked at Chris Argent. “Compartmentalization, you called it. We’ll deal with the problems we can solve first. How long do you think before they swear out a warrant?”

“Tomorrow morning.” Chris nodded at him, both in recognition of what he was saying and the wisdom he recognized there. “You shouldn’t come here anymore.” 

“All right.” Scott felt his mother was still squeezing his hand under the table, so he squeezed it back. “Chris, before I go tonight, show me how to use the radios so they can’t trace us.” 

Stiles was out of jail, and no matter what anyone else thought, Scott thought that was good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I really hate myself for writing it solely from Scott's point of view. There's this scene I want to write from Stiles point of view, but I can't. It won't fit. Blah.


	22. That Heaven Finds Means to Kill Your Joys with Love!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle begins ...

Scott sat on a stone bench high on a hill in a cemetery in San Francisco. The bench was in place for those people who may need to rest when visiting their loved ones. It was not even remotely comfortable. The funeral that he couldn’t attend was on the other end of the graveyard, and it was so far away that the mourners looked like ants to him. Even with his vision he couldn’t tell one person from anyone else. Even his hearing couldn’t pick out the words of the eulogy or the words of condolence the mourners spoke to each other from this far away. He wondered if he should have come to the funeral at all, given the risk of him being seen and the fact that he had to sit so far away as to make it almost meaningless. 

But, in the end, he just couldn’t skip his father’s funeral.

His mother was down there, along with Chris Argent. The hunter had refused to let her go by herself, since Scott couldn’t accompany her, even though he knew that his father’s family would glare at Melissa bringing someone they consider a ‘date.’ Scott knew that his grandparents were down there, as were his two uncles, his aunt, and his cousins. He hadn’t seen anyone on that side of the family since the divorce was final. It had hurt that it seemed his grandparents had just forgotten he existed. He also knew that his father’s friends and coworkers were down there as well, but he didn’t know any of them. He had no idea how his father had spent his time when he wasn’t working.

The strangest part was that all of them would be thinking at this very moment that he had killed his dad. 

Scott saw the funeral finally finish. It had been pretty well attended, which he supposed was a good thing. Just because his father hadn’t been part of his life didn’t mean that Rafael didn’t have a life at all. The plan was for him to wait here, patiently. Chris would get his mother away from the funeral and make sure they weren’t being tailed before coming to pick him up.

It was an hour before he heard the SUV pull up. The spring sun was dying in the Pacific Ocean and the sky was a pinkish orange, which seemed somehow blasphemous. His mother came up, dressed in a black dress with a black cartwheel hat. He had never ever seen his mother in a hat. If it hadn’t been worn specifically for a funeral, it would have been glamorous. She sat down next to him.

“Do you ever resent it?” Scott asked suddenly. “I mean, do you ever resent me?”

Melissa made a sound in the back of her throat. Instead of answering immediately, she sat quietly to regain her composure. “Do I resent having to leave my house? Do I resent having to leave my job? Do I resent my life being filled with violence and horror? Do I resent everything that I wanted for my baby to be taken away? Do I resent wondering every night if this is the one when you don’t manage to come home?” She smiled sadly. “Yes, I do resent it.” 

Scott looked at her. He knew her words were true; he could hear her heart. He appreciated that she hadn’t lied to him.

“What I don’t resent is having a son who has turned out to be such a good man. I don’t resent having a son who puts other people’s needs before his own. I don’t resent having a son who tries to see the good in everyone. I don’t’ resent having a son who understands the value of self-control. I don’t resent having a son who didn’t let the fact that he was taken into a new world against his will, who didn’t let the fact that people he has loved have died or left, who didn’t let the fact that evil men choose him to be their enemy, turn him bitter and sullen. Yes, I’ve lost a lot, but I’ve gained a lot. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

Scott sighed. “You know, he really was trying to make it up to me, you know. He tried.”

“I know, honey. Though he was doing a really terrible job.” 

Scott chuckled. “He was. He was really terrible at it. We’d go do something and we’d just sit there looking awkwardly at each other. He had no idea what to say.”

Scott fell silent. He was sitting on a stone bench with his mother in a cemetery in San Francisco and there had just been a funeral. He had no idea what to say. Finally, he just let the truth burst out of him in a rush. “He was my dad, though. He was my dad.”

His mother held him while he cried. The sun disappeared into the ocean.

******

“You didn’t have to come out here with me,” Scott told Hayden three days later as they walked through the forest. It was a Monday, and she was skipping school. “I could have found it if you had given me directions.”

“I suck at giving directions.” Hayden answered honestly. “I also know you are trying to find that monster, and I really would be able to concentrate on my history homework better if I knew that monster wasn’t out there.” 

“That’s a good reason.” He kept an eye peeled for the cabin that Hayden had talked about, which Theo had showed her once. “If he shows, run, okay? He’s not after you, he’s after me.”

“Why is he after you?” Hayden asked. It was a simple question, but she looked worried, as if she had crossed a line.

“He knows I’m protecting the Argents. They’re the ones he really wants. They killed him the first time.” Scott finally spotted the cabin and made for it. It did not look like much from the outside.

“Wait, wait.” Hayden caught up with him. “But Theo said he died in the 18th century.” 

Scott listened at the door. No heartbeats. No sounds indicating anyone was inside. “Yep. Killing him the first time is what founded the Argent family. He’s a little pissed about that.” He tried the door; it was locked. “Step back. They might have trapped it.”

Hayden did as she was told. “This is so weird. But if he’s after the Argents, why are you protecting them? Couldn’t they protect themselves?”

“They could, if anyone could. They were doing it while I was in a coma. But I’ve known people like Valet, once they get a taste for revenge, they don’t stop. Once he kills all the Argents, he’ll leave Beacon Hills and find another place to start killing. He just likes it.” He burst the door open. It was dusty and quiet in there and the stairs leading down were creaky and rusty. “I don’t smell anything. Do you?”

“No. No, but I’m not good at this.” She followed him in. “If he’d leave, would that really your problem?”

Scott went down the stairs. There’s no hum of electricity or any sort of weird scientific device crackling in the corner. The Doctors had either abandoned this location or never gotten to use it. “Two ways of looking at it. You may not know this, but I did something in junior year that may have enabled the Doctors to succeed. That makes it my responsibility to make sure he doesn’t get to kill anyone else. Or, maybe, I’m just not willing to let someone like that kill innocent people for fun. I don’t think it’s in me to just let him do that.”

“Is Liam like you?” Hayden suddenly asked. “Would he get involved even though he wasn’t a target?”

Scott looked over at her as he started up the steps to leave the cabin. He suspected now that she had come with him to talk about Liam. “Honestly, Hayden, I don’t know. The last six months have been really hard on him.” 

“Yeah.” She sounded guilty. “You know, I didn’t do anything to help him.” 

“There were a lot of reasons for you not to do that. I don’t blame you, and I don’t hold you responsible.” He waited until she was out and shut the door behind him. “I’m not sure if he does or not, but you’ll have to ask him.”

Hayden made a face like that was the last thing she ever wanted to do. Scott realized that their relationship was probably over. It certainly felt over. There are some things that would just get in the way. 

Hayden walked with him back to their vehicles. “You know, Liam was right. You’re a good person. I’ve basically told you that I let your pack mate suffer for months, and your first thought was to tell me you don’t blame me. Theo told me that your attitude made you weak.”

Scott kept walking but he looked back at her. “Theo was kinda right. He was able to tear my pack apart because I wanted to believe in the best of everyone. I made mistakes because of it. While I hope to learn to be a little more discerning, that’s essentially not going to change. You can call it weak if you want. But you know what? He lost his gang because he didn’t care about earning your trust. He may be strong, but he’d be a lot stronger with you on his side.”

Hayden fell quiet after that. Scott always noticed that the chimera always clammed up when the conversation turned to Theo. “Will you be seeing Liam anytime soon?”

“Tonight. He’s staying with us until we can stop The Beast.” His phone started ringing; they were getting near the vehicles. “Then we’ll figure out a way to get him back with his parents. After I take this call, tell me how Josh is doing.”

Scott looked down at his phone. It was Deaton. “Hey, Doc. What’s happening?”

“Scott. You need to listen to me very carefully. Sebastien Valet is here at the animal clinic. He attempted to come inside, but my defenses were able to hold him off. Thankfully there are still supernatural entities that can’t breach mountain ash.” The veterinarian’s voice was calm, as usual, though there was the smallest hint of exasperation.

“Is he still there?” Scott demanded, his heart rate jumping. This is what he had been most afraid of – Valet going after one of the human members of his alliance, like his father. 

“Yes, Scott. He is quite obviously patrolling the perimeter of the clinic. He is purposefully allowing me to see him doing it. He does not intend, I think, for me to be able to leave safely.”

“It’s a trap. Who else have you called?” 

“No one else, Scott. You’re the alpha.” In any other circumstance, Deaton’s deference would have made him feel warm inside. Now the responsibility made his gut fall into his shoes.

“Call Derek and the Argents. Tell them to meet me at the school. If you remain there, are you safe?” 

“I believe I am.” Deaton used his evaluative yet hedging tone. “I will do my best to remain where he cannot get to me.”

“We’ll be coming as soon as it is dark enough to conceal the fight. We’re going to get you out of there.”

“I have no doubts that you will, but … you are right, Scott. This is a trap. He has a plan.” Deaton hung up.

Scott stared at the phone for a moment as if he was worried that was the last time he’d ever talk to the veterinarian. He pushed the thought out of his mind. He turned to Hayden. “The Beast is making his move. If you can do it, can you get the chimera together? There’s safety in numbers.”

“I’m not their leader!” Hayden exclaimed. 

“You could be. You need to be, just until we get this done.” Scott ran to his bike and scrambled on top of it. “Get going!” 

 

******

 

Scott was the last to arrive at the high school parking lot, as he had been the furthest out. He pulled off his helmet and ran over to where the group was waiting for him.

Derek turned to him immediately. The air was filled with tension. “We need to be clear on what the goal is here!” 

“I want to say to save Deaton, but I think this is our best chance to end this.” Scott took that deep, steadying breath he always did when he was making decisions he wasn’t sure about. “He can’t get to Doc, and he can’t stay around the clinic forever. So, worst comes to worst, Doc spends twenty-four hours or so trapped in his examination room.”

“This is a trap,” Braeden repeated. 

Scott nodded. “But we’re running out of time, and I’m lying to myself and all of you if I think otherwise. I’m not going to be able to play keep away from the FBI forever.” He suddenly looked at the adults in the room. “Now’s the time to tell me that I’m stupid.”

Chris shook his head. “You’re not wrong, but I think you are underestimating your opponent. Valet’s managed to keep such a low profile so well that we have had trouble tracking his movements. What he is doing now is the opposite of a low profile. We all know it is a trap, but we don’t know what type of trap it is. Everyone should be extremely cautious.”

“That being said,” growled Gerard, “you’re also right. I’ve said before, eventually we have to bring him to heel. He’s only staying here because his family is here, but if we don’t give him the battle he wants, we’ll lose him, and he’ll leave a trail of bodies across this world.”

“I am not going to ask anyone to commit to this unless they’re sure,” Scott announced, looking around the circle of pack and allies. “It’s going to be dangerous, but we have a chance tonight to end it. Before you decide, I want Chris to explain the plan in full.”

Chris nodded and brought out a street map showing the location of the animal clinic. “The plan is simple; we’re going to rely on the fact that Valet has obviously acquired some intelligence on Scott, because he used Scott’s conflict with his father to his advantage. Thus, he’ll be expecting Scott to rush to the clinic because he knows of Scott’s close relations, and we will use this against him. Scott will arrive on his motorcycle. He’ll be followed at a distance by me with Isaac and my father. We’ll be the immediate back up, keeping the Beast penned in with gunfire.” He looks over at Derek and Braeden. “You three will approach from the other side of the clinic. Malia and Derek, you’ll wait until Scott’s engaged with The Beast before harrying it. Braeden, do you think you can get to the roof of the clinic and act as both spotter and sniper?”

“I am for any plan that does not require me to get up close and personal with a supernatural killing machine,” remarked Braeden. “Why do you think that this will work? Why won’t he just retreat?”

Gerard pointed at himself, Chris, and Scott. “Two of his direct descendents are here, and the person he went through the trouble of framing is here. He isn’t going to get a better chance to get his revenge, and from everything I have ever read, patience isn’t Sebastien Valet’s strong suit. He’ll trust in his power to win the fight.”

Malia shrugs. “It sounds like a plan. Unless someone has a better one, let’s get this on the road.” 

They all looked at each other. The die was cast.

******

Scott gunned his motorcycle as he drove up, making as much noise as he could. He wanted to draw out Valet, but he also wanted to let Deaton know that he was no longer alone. Strangely enough, he felt excited and very focused. The quicker the battle was joined, the quicker it could be over. He hoped off his bike and let the shift take him over. He was not in the full alpha form, but into the partial form he usually favored. He had only done the full alpha form once, and while it was extraordinary, it was unreliable; he’d only use it if it was absolutely necessary. 

“Come on out!” He shouted. His glowing eyes couldn’t find The Beast, but he could smell it somewhere nearby. The plan wouldn’t work unless he got the Beast to fight him. He couldn’t think of a taunt that would work, but maybe shouting would. When nothing happened immediately, a feeling of unease settled on his bones. He looked up and saw the headlights of the Argent vehicle approaching. Had The Beast retreated? Had they miscalculated? 

Before the Argents’ vehicle could reach him, The Beast, towering and monstrous, charged out of an alley perpendicular to the street. He had let Scott pass by unmolested, in order to slam directly into the SUV. Between the Toyota’s velocity and La Bête’s massive impact, the SUV flipped three times and came to a rest on its roof, wheels spinning lazily. 

Scott broke into a run. It was like Valet had known about the plan. How could that be? He had to get there quickly before the vulnerable men inside the car became victims. The Beast, however, was not dazed by the impact; like opening up a closet, it pulled a door right off the overturned vehicle. 

Chris and Gerard may have been experienced hunters, but their bodies were only as strong as humans. They were still stunned. Isaac, on the other hand, was a werewolf and when Valet tore the door off, he came out, crawling on one hand and both knees, shooting a .45.

The Beast took bullet after bullet, the impacts pushing it back, while Isaac got up on his feet, still shooting. “Hold on,” Scott shouted, rushing to join the battle as quickly as he could. Isaac needed him.

Valet wasn’t going to be denied his prize. He grabbed Isaac by the throat with one clawed hand, moving faster than something that big should have been able to. Isaac responded with a growl and shot the monster right in the face. Annoyed, La Bête casually bit Isaac’s arm off at the elbow!

Scott kept moving, but his mind suddenly jumped his tracks. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t process Isaac’s howl of pain. He couldn’t accept how the monster casually spit Isaac’s arm out to the side, gun and all. 

Derek’s voice came back to him. _Fear can paralyze you into doing nothing. Or it can make you act._ Scott was terrified; he was going to lose Isaac like he had lost Allison, like he had almost lost Stiles, like he may have lost Kira. Another monster was going to take Isaac away from him, unless he stopped it.

There was no choice, unreliable or not, the only thing that would make Valet give up on killing Isaac would be his full alpha form. Scott didn’t care what happened after that, if he never came back from the edge. The fear surged through his veins, threatening to tear the heart from his vest and he just let it go. 

Four hundred pounds of angry alpha slammed into the Beast of Gevaudan and it dropped Isaac like a limp dishrag. There was no artistry in the fight, no dance, just biting and clawing, a death struggle for position to tear at the throat. Scott was dimly aware of the sounds of guns. **_No. Not Isaac._** Scott could hear the snarls of his pack working with him. **_Kill. Kill now._** He could feel teeth and claws tear into his flesh, and he didn’t care. He knew that the monster was stronger than him. He knew he was losing, but he didn’t care about the past and he certainly didn’t care about the future. He wasn’t going to let anyone take Isaac from him no matter what. 

They rolled around on the ground; they slammed each other into walls and cars. Shouts and gunshots echoed in his head, but he couldn’t let up. He felt himself weakening as the fight went on. Determination was fine, but he had never fought to kill before. He didn’t know how. 

Eventually, the Beast picked him up and slammed him repeatedly into a car or something, he wasn’t sure. It hurt; it hurt so much. It hurt until he couldn’t feel it hurting any more, until the rage and fear bled away into nothings. Scott wondered if he was dying again.


	23. For Winking at Your Discords Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles reveals his plan, and Scott has to decide whether to trust Stiles with what may be the rest of his life.

The cold hard metal of the examination table was uncomfortable, but uncomfortable in a familiar way and that somehow reassured. Scott knew the feel of this table against his bare skin; he had cleaned them a thousand times. He could smell the animals that had been taken care of here, the medicines that had been used, and the antiseptic he used to clean. He was familiar with the glow of the fluorescent lights against his eyelids. He was breathing easily and he wasn’t in any pain, though he did feel groggy. He must have been unconscious for some time.

Before he could open his eyes, he heard Stiles grate angrily. “We are completely and utterly running out of time. We have about maybe ten minutes before things go side-ways, pear-shaped, and topsy-turvy. We are talking about ten minutes before Titanic-hits-the-iceberg bad. He needs to wake up now, Derek. Can’t you rub him with werewolf magic and make him wake up?” As frantic as Stiles’ voice was, it was also comforting. Like the tables, it was comforting because it was familiar; it was like home.

“No, Stiles, I can’t _rub him with werewolf magic_.” Derek said dryly. The more things changed, the more things stayed the same. “He was hurt pretty bad, and while the wounds have healed, he’ll wake up when he wakes up.” 

“I’m up,” Scott groaned. “I’m up.” 

“Oh, thank God,” Stiles exclaimed and rushed over to the examining table. “There are like eight-hundred things that we have to get done right now, Scott, so I’m going to need you to listen to me, okay?”

Scott sat up; he was naked but he had a blanket over him. “Okay.” He smiled, still a little groggy. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Stiles paused in his excitement. There was a moment where they just stared at each other. “Me, too, buddy; me, too.” He flipped back into problem-solving mode, immediately. “You need to know that in ten minutes by my estimate, this place is going to be surrounded by FBI agents. They’ve been following me, and I told them I knew where I could find you. But I needed to talk to you without this …” He pulled up his shirt to reveal a wire. “… working, so I had to give them the slip. I turned it off, but I can’t turn off the tracking chip.”

Scott nodded. “Okay.” He really was simply glad to see Stiles again, outside of jail.

“Then we have to get him out of here.” Derek argued. 

“No, we can’t, Derek,” Stiles snapped. “And when I tell you why, Scott will agree with me. You’ve been set up, buddy, you’ve been set up big time, and I can get you out of this, but you’ve got to trust me.”

Scott nodded in response. That shouldn’t be too hard, should it? Then, he flashed back to what had happened with La Bête before he had gone unconscious. “Isaac! Where’s Isaac? Is he okay? Is he all right?”

Derek took the lead on this one. “Deaton and Braeden took Isaac to the hospital with your mother’s help. He was badly wounded and Deaton wasn’t sure if he could surgically reattach his arm well enough for healing to kick in. They were going to talk to Dr. Geyer, Liam’s father.” 

“You mean they’re going to tell him?” Scott exclaimed. “I guess we were going to do it anyway, but …“ Telling Dr. Geyer about werewolves meant that they were going to have to tell him about Liam. Liam knew that the day had to come, but he wouldn’t be happy. 

“It was either that or cauterize the wound so Isaac wouldn’t bleed out,” Derek advised grimly. “He’ll live, no matter what, but if there’s a chance to save his arm, we all thought we should take it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I didn’t mean to put secrets ahead of Isaac.” Scott shook his head. He would never-ever mean that. He would tap-dance in shifted form in front of the student body to make sure Isaac was safe. “I’m sorry, but I’m just a little fuzzy.”

“Now that we are all relieved that Isaac has two arms with which to not tie his stupid scarves, can we get back to the very, very important information I have to share in the rapidly decreasing amount of time I have to share it?” Stiles demanded. 

“Yeah, sure, Stiles, but … is anyone else hurt? Is everyone okay?” Scott realized he didn’t know about anyone else.

Stiles threw his arms up in irritated frustration. If he had really been angry, he would have kept interrupting.

“Chris and Gerard are in the hospital. Chris was pretty badly hurt in the crash; he’s stable, but they don’t know the extent of his injuries,” Derek explained. “Unfortunately, Gerard walked away with only minor injuries. Deaton, Braeden, and your mother are at the hospital, taking care of everyone. Malia went back to the house to let the others know.” 

“And La Bête?” Scott hoped that there was good news.

“Gerard killed him.” Derek explained. “Don’t ask me how!”

“Ask me how!” Stiles sputtered. “Because I know how! I know how that geriatric bastard arranged all of this!”

Scott and Derek turned to look at Stiles who was gesturing madly. “ _Now_ I have your attention!” His face and tone dropped to the point where he was deadly serious. “That’s why I got out, Scott; I figured out from what you told me in the e-mails and from the evidence that the FBI had showed me when they were trying to get me to turn state’s evidence exactly how Gerard was playing this little scheme of his.” 

“The first thing that I noticed was the same thing you had been worried about. How did an eighteenth-century psychopathic French werewolf manage to blend into the modern world so well that the Argents – a family that had been hunting werewolves for centuries – couldn’t find him? _Especially_ without the help of the Dread Doctors. I could imagine him hiding out for a week or maybe two weeks? But six months? There was only one possible reason. Valet had an inside man.”

Derek’s and Scott’s jaws might as well have been on the floor. Scott protested. “I know that he’s an asshole, but he wanted to destroy The Beast just as much as any of us. Even more than some of us.”

Stiles nodded. “That’s the point right there, Scott. _He_ wanted to destroy The Beast. He wanted to secure his family’s legacy; he wanted to secure _his_ legacy. He must have been frantic trying to make sure that it was an Argent and an Argent alone that would get the kill. Gerard has always, one-hundred-per-cent been all about _him_. He’d sacrifice anyone and everyone to reach his goals. Who cares how many people Valet would kill as long as _he_ could be the one to put him down.” 

“So, Gerard, using a pseudonym, has been feeding Valet information electronically. He shared patrol routes, location of safe houses, and suggestions for keeping himself hidden. Don’t ask me how a centuries-old serial killer knew how to use e-mail, but he did. Valet was suspicious at first, but Gerard convinced him that he was a werewolf who wanted revenge against the Argents.” 

“But that would be risky wouldn’t it?” Scott suggested. “La Bête would have killed Gerard with no hesitation if they had met, and the longer this took the more chance that would happen.”

“Gerard Argent is many things, Scott,” Stiles replied in the same deadly serious manner, “but a coward he isn’t. He was willing to risk his life as well as all of ours to get what he wanted. Communication between Valet and his secret benefactor stopped the same night that you freed Liam from Theo until last night, where Gerard sent an e-mail to Sebastien describing the assault on the animal clinic.” Stiles gestured. “The Beast was supposed to attack you, Scott, as you rode up on your motorcycle and couldn’t defend yourself, but the monster changed the plan to go after the Argents first.” 

Derek nodded along with the information, because it fit so far. “How do you know this?”

Stiles looked a little sheepish. “While you guys were rushing to save Deaton from the beast, I may have convinced Liam to bust into Gerard’s room and steal his laptop. I may have also convinced Lydia to help me figure out his password. It was all there; confirmation I needed. But that’s why I had to turn state’s evidence, Scott; I couldn’t accuse him without proof. It sounded crazy. And everything I had before was just … instinct.”

“Why did he stop communicating so much with Valet after we rescued Liam from Theo?” Scott wondered. 

“The only thing I can think of is that something changed,” Stiles answered. “Something about the confrontation with Theo changed the playing board.”

Derek answered that. “Maybe that’s where he got that weird sword cane thing.” Scott and Stiles looked at him. “It’s what he stabbed the monster with; that’s what killed it.”

Stiles snapped his fingers. “The Surgeon’s cane. You told me that the chimera said that Theo had a plan to stop La Bête. When you defeated Theo, Gerard must have found the cane in their lair and recognized it as something that would be fatal.”

Scott shook his head. “It must have been the Pike he was talking about. But even afterwards, Gerard was all about pushing me to take the full Alpha form. If he had what he needed, why would he do that?”

Derek was the one who answered. “He was surprised that you managed it on the first attempt. Really surprised. I heard his heart jump when we told him. I didn’t think it was as significant because I was just as surprised.” 

“He had to act like you were important to stopping The Beast. For his plans to work, he still needed all of you to believe he was on your side,” Stiles concluded.

Scott smiled. There wasn’t anything to smile about, but he only knew that he had to. He had missed this. He had missed Stiles’ friendship and his sharp mind. Stiles watched him smiling at him; the scent of sadness suddenly filled the room. 

Stiles tilted his head. “There’s more, Scott. It’s not good.” 

“Theo might have told Sebastien that you were back in town, but it was Gerard who gave him the idea to frame him for your father’s murder,” Stiles wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Including the bat. It was … it was the last piece.”

Scott blinked back tears as any trace of good humor vanished in a gale of rage. “Why?” He clenched his fists. “I’ll kill him.”

“No,” Derek interrupted Scott, putting a calming hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to kill him like I should have killed him before, war or no war. Scott, you may be alpha, but I’m not going to let him take even more from you. You shouldn’t have to become a murderer because some deranged old man wants to become immortalized. And I won’t be doing it out of revenge, even though I could do that and no one would blame me. I’m going to kill him because he needs to die before he ruins anyone else’s life.”

“I’m always up for a good pre-emptive murder,” Stile commented with exasperation, “but I’m not finished yet. There’s more.”

Scott’s eyes widened at the term ‘more.’ Of course, there was always something worse. 

“When the agents were making their pitch to me,” Stiles mentioned, “they walked me through all the murders, starting with Laura’s.” He looked apologetically at Derek. “I’m sure you know by now, Scott, they’re going to try to blame them all on you.”

“Yeah, Chris told me. He thought that it was ridiculous though. There’s not enough evidence.”

“There is enough evidence,” replied Stiles. “Did Chris explain that his family does have people in the FBI who they can influence?” 

“Chris said that while hunting is a lot about training, there is also the need to be able to handle the authorities, for their own protection. But he said that he didn’t have as many contacts in the FBI.”

“He doesn’t, Scott, but Gerard does. I don’t have absolute proof, but it has to be him. When I was looking through the evidence, I noticed things – clues – that the FBI couldn’t possibly have. For example, they know that Bennett, the hunter that Jackson targeted after Mr. Lahey, was killed at the Hale House ruins. No one but the Argents and Deaton knew that.”

“What are you saying?” Derek demanded. 

“I’m saying that Gerard’s not only been keeping The Beast safe until he was able to kill him, but he’s been the one orchestrating the case against Scott inside the FBI. Your father didn’t know this, but he was under investigation as well; people thought he might be manipulating evidence to protect you.”

Scott finally understood the sadness and the mania in Stiles’ stance and the reason he kept looking at the clock. “I’m in more trouble than I thought, aren’t I? Chris and Braeden thought that the evidence was too circumstantial to do anything with.”

“That’s because they haven’t seen all of it, Scott. I’m sure that Gerard’s manufactured enough evidence to frame you for everything.” Stiles was grim. “With my willingness to testify, they’re going to nail you to the wall.”

“Why?” Scott asked the other two. “Why would he go through so much trouble?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Scotty, not everyone is like you. Some people carry grudges. You didn’t just beat him in that warehouse; you humiliated him. He got his ass whupped by a high-school sophomore who was also a wet-behind-the-ears werewolf. Imagine what that must do your ego, especially if you’re an evil old fuck like him.” Stiles came over and stood close to him. “And he did it while pretending to work with you. To his wrinkly ass, it’s poetic justice.”

The truth of it was obvious when Stiles explained it all. They had been so busy focusing on the threat of The Beast that they had assumed that Gerard was the lesser danger. They had been wrong. Scott rubbed at his face. He’d been fooled. Again. 

“What do you think I should do, Stiles?” 

Stiles took a deep breath. “We’ve got this. You need to let me get you arrested. The FBI should be out front in minutes, if they’re not out there already.”

Derek was immediately on his feet. “You have to be out of your mind! That will be playing right into Gerard’s hands!”

Scott hesitated as Derek glared at Stiles but Stiles focused his eyes on Scott’s. “Don’t you understand? They’re not going to let this go. Gerard has given them enough real evidence for them to keep digging and digging and digging until they get the truth. The whole truth. You _know_ what that will do.”

Stiles turned to Derek, who was still glaring. “The FBI will find out about the supernatural and every one of you will be hunted by the federal government. If you think the freakin’ Argents and the Calaveras are bad, wait until every federal agency with an agenda wants to cut you up into little werewolf science experiments.”

Scott remained silent. He understood what Stiles was saying, but he hoped there was another way.

“Gerard might have wanted revenge on Scott, but he couldn’t give them enough to expose the supernatural,” Derek argued. “The Argents never …”

“Stop thinking like they’re one massive monolithic entity, Derek!” Stiles shouted. “You’ve just barely avoided a situation where Gerard once again proved he doesn’t give a fuck about anyone else but himself. Do you think he cares about those poor innocent supernatural creatures who’ll be rounded up for the safety of the citizens? Hell, he’ll probably write a book to immortalize himself – _Scions of the First Hunter_ or some other bullshit!” 

Stiles turned to Scott, pleading in his eyes. “The only way to stop Gerard’s plan is for you to get caught, tried, and exonerated. We do that by destroying the credibility of his evidence forever. We make sure that no one can ever use it again.” 

Scott nodded. He didn’t know much about the law, but he knew that Stiles did.

“And how are you going to do that, Stiles? How are you going to destroy its credibility?” Derek demanded. 

“Once the case goes to court, I’ll recant. I’ll sabotage my own testimony. Double jeopardy comes into play, and all of Gerard’s work goes down the tubes. I’m sure that Chris can stop state authorities from looking into it,” Stiles explained. “Voila! Problem solved.”

Scott frowned, anxiously. He wanted to trust Stiles, but there was something wrong here that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Derek was thinking more clearly. “And then you go back to jail for breaking your agreement. Probably with an extra charge of interfering with a federal investigation tacked on to it.”

Stiles shrugged but didn’t argue. 

“No!” Scott shouted. “You’re not going to sacrifice yourself for me.”

“Dude,” Stiles joked, “it isn’t like you’ll be getting off with a slap on the wrist. They’re not going to give you bail. You’ll be in custody for months, probably. There’s enough pain to go around.”

“Scott didn’t hurt anyone so he would be falsely imprisoned.” Derek countered. “And you’re looking at up to five years and a felony conviction, Stiles. This is a stupid plan, and you’re stupid.” 

“No, Stiles. You don’t deserve that. We’ll figure something else out.” Scott reached out and grabbed him by the arm.

“Don’t I?” Stiles was in that stubborn, angry, fighting mode, when people just weren’t listening to his plans. When Stiles thought he was right, he never backed down, and he never shied away from using all the weapons at his disposal. “I know what you think of me. Why shouldn’t murderers be in jail?”

“Stiles, don’t, please.” Scott pleaded. “Don’t make this about that night.”

“What other night should we make it about? You can’t pretend to care about me when you believe I would just murder someone!”

“I don’t believe that!” Scott shouted back. “I believe you killed someone who was going to kill your dad! Is this what this is? Do you want to prove yourself to me as one of the good guys by sacrificing yourself for me? You don’t have to do that!”

“Maybe I do,” Stiles said mutinously.

Scott grabbed Stiles by the shoulder. “ _You’re_ the only person here who thinks I’m better than you. You go on about how you’re human and you’re not a True Alpha, but the True Alpha didn’t figure out Gerard’s plan. The True Alpha didn’t come with a way to stop it. You did. You’re the person I need; you’re the person I love.”

Scott burst into tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t try to understand that night. I’m sorry I walked away. I didn’t know what else to do. Buy I’m not sorry I couldn’t ignore what you did; I’m not sorry that I thought it was wrong. You think I haven’t done things wrong? Ask Derek!” He shook his head. “I never wanted to be a leader, to be responsible for other people, to protect a whole damn town, but if this is how things have to be, I’m going to do it right, and that means I have to _fair_. If I let people like Deucalion get to walk for being the Demon Wolf, that means I let you walk for protecting your dad.” 

Scott tried to get Stiles’ attention, fully, from where he was fuming. “Neither of us deserved to lose our fathers. If you think it’s wrong for me to go to jail for something I didn’t do, then it’s wrong for you to go to save me, as well. You think I’m more important than you are, but you’re wrong. You’ve always been wrong about that.”

Derek remarked from where he was steaming mad on the other side of the room. “I think you two are both idiots.”

Stiles looked him into the eyes; they were serious and warm and sad all at the same time. “One day, I’m going to tell you the story, Scott, because I don’t think you know the truth. But that doesn’t matter right now, because this, this right now, is bigger than both of us. It’s about the pack, and not just our pack. It’s about every pack and every supernatural creature that just wants to live their life quietly and peacefully. I need you to believe me, one more time. I need you to trust me, just one more time.” 

Scott thought about what Stiles wanted him to do. He knew that Derek was opposed to it. He knew his mother would hate it. He knew Isaac might hate him for even thinking about doing it. Everyone would hate it. But Stiles thought it was not only the right thing to do, but the necessary thing to do. 

Scott realized that there were dozens of things that could go wrong with Stiles’ plan, not the least of which could be that Stiles could turn his back on him when it came to it. This was his future with which he was gambling. He could spend the rest of his life in prison. 

But hadn’t he trusted Stiles before, when he could have died? What was different now? He thought of other things: of jeeps and lacrosse practice, of gasoline and flares, of MRI machines, of katanas, of rainstorms, of wrenches. He already knew what his decision was. “Okay. What do you need me to do?”

“First, get dressed,” Stiles relaxed. “They might wonder why you’re naked and in a dog blanket.” He turned to Derek. “You need to hide.” Scott looked around. He had shredded his clothes with the full alpha transformation.

Derek frowned and slipped out of his clothes. “I’ll be fine. Scott, use mine. They’re probably gonna be a little big.” Before he assumed the wolf form he turned to Stiles. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Stiles patted him on the head after he shifted. “Have a little faith.” He waited. “I’m betting they’re already outside. All you have to do is walk out with me and do what they say.”

Scott let Stiles lead the way. He nodded to Derek as he left and whispered so Stiles couldn’t hear and Derek could. “I need to do this. For him.” 

When the agents started shouting and turning on the spotlights, he just knelt down and let them take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are only two more chapters after this, but there will certainly be a sequel.


	24. All Are Punish'd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott employs his ability to spirit walk to pass the time while in prison.

It had been many years since he’d been able to sleep in comfortably. His ears were sharper and the sounds of the world waking up made any attempt to sleep past his alarm and exercise in ignorance. Eventually, it just became easier to rise with the dawn. He thought maybe he would have a better time in prison, but dawn brought the same slow murmur of people awakening.

The prosecutor had requested something called ‘special remand’ due to the severity of his crimes, so he was in a maximum security cell even though he hadn’t been convicted. The cell was only eight feet by twelve feet, with a single hard bed, a chair, and a desk, all connected to the wall so he couldn’t move them. He had a small radio, some legal papers his lawyer had given him, and nothing else. 

The first twenty-four hours he was frightened. The second twenty-four hours the terror receded until it was a dull burn in the back of his mind, and then he was just bored. He had been in here for two weeks, but the days all seemed to blur together. 

He wondered what happened to people who couldn’t spirit walk if they spent time in jail. How could they deal with it? Still, he felt a little like a voyeur, living through his pack.

**Stiles obviously wasn’t sleeping well. By the condition of his bed, any sleep he did get would have been marred by constant tossing and turning. Scott knew what mode Stiles was in. He was worried and unable to do anything about what he was worrying about.**

**As he watched Stiles drink coffee and pour over legal sites on his laptop, Scott wondered why he wasn’t staying with his mom or Chris or even Dr. Deaton. It was a nice hotel room, but Stiles didn’t need to be by himself right now. He needed people around him, and Scott certainly couldn’t be there right now.**

**Stiles had filled the hotel room with law dictionaries and books checked out from the local library. He had printouts that he must have printed off at the same place. It must have been only a little after eight in the morning and he was still reading furiously, muttering to himself.**

**There was a knock on the door. Stiles nearly jumped out of the chair. He went to the door, peered through the keyhole and then opened it up.**

**“What are you doing here?” He demanded of Braeden.**

**“Trust me, I’m not here because I want to be,” the mercenary answered. “But I’m the only one who can get close enough to you to talk. Let me in.”**

**Once inside she looked over the room, appraisingly. “Yep. You’re obsessing. Exactly like they thought you would be.”**

**“Who are they? And I’m not obsessing; I’m working.” Stiles narrowed his eyes at her.**

**“Everyone else.” She walked over to the bed, made a face, and picked at it. “You need to sleep better.”**

**“Why thank you so much for telling me things that I already know. And if _everyone else_ is so worried, why did the send you?”**

**“Because they’re witnesses in the case as well. If they get caught talking to you, the FBI could arrest them for witness tampering.” Braeden turned to him with contempt. “Didn’t think that one through, did you? You’ve isolated yourself.”**

**Stiles chewed on his thumb. “And you aren’t? Witness tampering.”**

**“I would be if I was even in town. The FBI doesn’t know I’m here.” Braeden walked back to the door. “Unlike certain teenage amateurs, I know what I’m doing. I came here to see if you were all right, and I’ll report it back to the people paying me. You better hope that this works the way you think it will work.”**

**“Was that a threat? Are you threatening me?” Stiles asked. “I know what I’m risking, and I know I’m right.”**

**“Sure you do,” Braeden sneered. “He trusts you, but I don’t. I don’t know about anyone else. If you screw this up, there will be a lot of people who won’t have any use for you at all. Just remember that.” She left as quickly as she came.**

Scott knew that he wasn’t going to get fat in prison. The breakfasts were bland; they were either bland eggs or bland oatmeal with toast and something that might have once resembled butter. There was some sort of juice with each breakfast: apple, orange, or something he suspected was banana juice? At least they were concerned for his health.

Since he was in maximum security, he only got to eat one meal a day with other prisoners, and breakfast wasn’t that meal. It was slid through a small door in the cell and the person on the outside didn’t say a word to him. 

At least it was something to look forward to in the morning.

**Isaac was sitting on the couch in the living room of his old house. His house, Scott corrected himself as he watched through the spirit walk. The Beast was dead, and his mother had moved them both back as soon as possible. Isaac was watching television, some morning show, and it wasn’t holding his interest because his eyes were pretty glazed over. The elaborate cast on his arm made sure that it didn’t move at all. Scott assumed that the arm wouldn’t heal right otherwise.**

**His mother came in from the kitchen with two cups and sat down next to him. She wordlessly handed him one of the cups and sat down next to him. It looked like coffee.**

**“So which one is the baby daddy?” she joked.**

**Isaac startled out of his daze and turned to her. “Uh. I’m not really watching it.” He looked sheepish.**

**“That’s okay. I really don’t like to watch shows like this,” his mother responded gently. “That is also a total lie. I love shows like this; they’re a guilty pleasure.”**

**They sat on the couch and watched the show until it was over, like mother and son. Scott had watched shows like that with her before. It hurt a little bit to watch her with Isaac, just as it hurt to watch Isaac be alone.**

**Isaac, after the show had finished, tried to slide a finger into the cast and itch something. “This thing is so annoying.”**

**Melissa clucked her tongue. “Dr. Deaton said it’s only a week. You know, most people can’t heal their arm like that once they get cut off. You’re lucky.”**

**“I know.” Isaac stopped trying to scratch. “It’s just … I hate this. I hate being unable to fix things.”**

**“We all do, honey. Sometimes all you can do is wait.”**

**Isaac rubbed at his eyes. “I didn’t take the bite to be powerless. I didn’t do all Mr. Argent’s training to be unable to help.” He gritted his teeth. “And now, I’m just sitting here, doing nothing.”**

**His mother gave Isaac a hug and then turned on a new show, one arm draped around him. It’s what she did best.**

Apparently, when in maximum security custody, you got one hour outside of your cell a day. When the weather was bad, you could use the library or the gym. But it was only for one hour.

They had a guard walking with him during his times out in the yard. The guard explained that was because he hadn’t been convicted yet. After he was convicted, the guard pretty much sneered, Scott would be alone. He enjoyed his time out in the yard; the cell was totally monotonous and the radio couldn’t pick up anything decent.

There were other people in the yard, and when Scott got near, they all stared at him. It got pretty uncomfortable. He was probably one of the youngest people in this place; they didn’t usually put eighteen-year-olds in maximum security.

The guard, a burly and dour man in his late forties, realized that Scott had been watching others watch him. “Don’t be too surprised. You’re accused of killing seventy-three people up close and personal. The press is calling you ‘The Beast of Beacon Hills.’ You’re a celebrity.”

Scott had to laugh at the name.

**Scott watched Derek standing behind Chris Argent as the man stared at the laptop. Derek was quietly studying the hunter as he showed Chris what Stiles had found on Gerard’s computer. It took a long time as Chris read every e-mail, analyzed the web history, and found documentation.**

**“My father has to know that someone stole his laptop.” Chris’s voice sounded numb. Chris was still hurt. He had had a concussion, a broken hand, and a sprained leg from the Beast’s attack on his vehicle.**

**“I’m sure he does,” Derek replied. “But he just doesn’t care. The damage is done.”**

**“You know what they found during the autopsy of Sebastien Valet? The teen that was transformed was Mason, Liam’s friend.” Chris continued in that hollow, neutral voice. It was like he was talking about his tax returns. “There are documents on this computer that shows my father could have figured out the identity of the genetic chimera the Doctors used as a base for the resurrection. He never said anything to me; we could have saved him.”**

**Derek shook his head. “Chris, I’m not going to let him get away with this. I can’t; not again.”**

**“Of course, you can’t. I’ll do everything I can to help you track him down. It won’t be easy, because the moment The Beast was dead, he packed up and left.” Chris shut the laptop down.**

**“I’m going to kill him.” Derek said it plainly to make sure that there was no confusion between them.**

**“Only if you get to him first.” Chris looked back at Derek, and his eyes were dangerous.**

**“Are you sure that you are going to be able to do that? He’s still your father.”**

**“He is not my father!” Chris shouted. “I gave him a second chance to uphold our family name and the Code which made our family great. What did he do with that second chance? He lied and cheated and schemed. He sat at the table of the woman I plan to marry, ate the food she cooked for him, while all the time plotting to frame her son for murders he didn’t commit. He risked the lives of innocent people in a plan to make sure that his name would be immortalized. He colluded in the death of a member of law enforcement and risked the exposure of the supernatural world, when he knows how terrible such an event would be.” Chris shook his head violently. “My father is dead. That is just a monster that hatched from a cocoon.”**

**“What are you saying?” Derek knew how important family was, but he wanted to make sure that he understood what the hunter intended.**

**“You know what I’m saying.” Chris drew a .45 and cocked it, even though it must have pained his broken hand terribly. “ _We hunt those who hunt us_.”**

Daniel Adamson, Esquire, looked well-dressed, self-confident and reminded Scott as nothing so much as a middle-aged Jackson. At their first meeting, he sat down across from Scott. “Hello. First rule, you talk to no one without me present. Got it?”

It was very aggressive, but Scott nodded in response. 

“Second rule, when someone asks you a question, you look to me first before you even think about answering it.” He opened up his folder. “I am a very good defense attorney. Individuals, families, and corporations put me on retainer. One of those families are the Argents, and Chris Argent is very interested in making sure you get out of here. You want to get out of here?” 

Scott mumbled “Yes.” He wondered if they man was trying to establish dominance or something. 

“Then do exactly as I say. They’ve charged you with seventy-three counts of murder and two hundred lesser counts.” He snorted at the paperwork. “You understand why they are going with such ridiculous charges?”

Scott shook his head. “I haven’t killed anyone.”

“I know, Mr. McCall, but that is ultimately irrelevant to how trials work. The prosecutors are our enemies, and you need to understand the enemy’s tactics. Their very approach screams to me that they don’t have a case. You don’t put this many charges in an indictment unless they think they won’t be able to find evidence for all of them. They’re also using the severity of your alleged crimes for bullshit legal maneuvers like ‘no bail’ and ‘special remand.’ And they’re obviously trying to sway public opinion against you. You’ve heard what they’ve got the press calling you?”

Scott nodded. It still stung. 

“Public relations mean fuck all in the initial case; I’ll be able to exclude any juror who has read anything. They’re doing that shit for the appeal, because they’re pretty sure they’re going to lose the first case.” Adamson snarked. “But most importantly, they’re trying to get you to buckle. They want you to plea to a lesser charge rather than face the possibility that they go to court and they can’t pin those crimes on you.” The lawyer leaned over the desk. “What I am saying is this: they have a mountain of circumstantial evidence, but not one bit of that will get a conviction. On the other hand, if they do get anything more solid, there is a risk you’ll get hammered. Do you want to plead guilty?”

Scott said once more, and firmly. “I haven’t killed anyone.” 

“I believe you,” Adamson leaned back. “It is only ethical for me to inform you that they are obviously going to have you tried as an adult and they’re going for the death penalty. I intend for neither to happen.” 

“You see awfully confident, Mr. Adamson.”

“I am. You see, thanks to the Argents, I know the truth. I know about you. I know that the evidence they need to get these convictions isn’t there. So, no evidence plus prosecutorial overreach plus a damn good attorney equals no convictions. That being said, there is always a chance.” Adamson made a face like he had just drunk prune juice. “There is always a chance that things go wrong.”

Scott thought about his life up to that point. He wasn’t as confident as Mr. Adamson.

**Scott watched Malia and Lydia walk through the woods near Deaton’s house. Lydia had insisted on taking the walk; she thought it was important for her physical recovery. Malia had volunteered to go with her in order to make sure she did not overdo it.**

**“I needed to get out of that house,” Lydia remarked. “I mean Alan doesn’t have the worst taste, but it is all so very reservedly masculine frontier for me.”**

**“I can’t stand the stench of that old man,” Malia growled. “It’ll be a while before it is gone.”**

**Lydia frowned at the mention of Gerard. “I simply can’t believe that he is related to both Chris and Allison. I didn’t spend much time around him the first time he caused problems. ” Lydia walked slowly and steadily, putting one foot in front of the other. “I do think that Chris and Melissa make a cute couple though. I think he’s going to propose to her soon.”**

**“Won’t that make Gerard Scott’s grandfather?” Malia made a face. “That would have to be weird for everyone. I know what it is like to have evil relatives.”**

**Lydia looked off to the side. “I don’t think people will have to worry about that for much longer.” Her voice as a little distracted.**

**Malia heard the change in her tone. “Are your powers coming back?”**

**“Slowly,” Lydia replied. “Too slowly for my tastes. But you don’t have to be a banshee to understand how many people want that old man dead.”**

**“They should have killed him the first time,” snarled Malia. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that Scott’s way works.”**

**Lydia reached out and grabbed Malia’s hand. “I know it may not seem like it …”**

**“I’m not saying it isn't the right thing to do,” Malia protested. “It's the right thing to do, but I'm not sure that it works. They allowed Peter to live when he came back, and he tried to kill Scott. They let Gerard live, and he got Scott put in jail. Scott let Theo go, and you know he’s going to come back and hurt someone.”**

**Lydia frowned but did not let go of the hand.**

**“I’m going to leave with Braeden soon. I’m going to find my mother and I am going to kill her. She kills people for money; she kills people because she likes it. She killed my family. My dad – and I don’t count Peter as my real dad – still hasn’t gotten over it. She needs to be put down before she hurts or kills anyone else.” Malia sounded so sure of herself. “I like Scott; I want him to be my alpha, but not if he lets people like my mother get away. I’m a coyote. I don’t need a pack.”**

**Malia turned to Lydia. “You don’t think that makes me bad, do you? Leaving now?”**

**“No,” replied Lydia. “Scott might not agree with you, but he’ll understand. I have to leave, too.” She sighed. “My mother wants me to go to college. She was so happy when she found out I was alive, but she insists that I should recover away from Beacon Hills and focus on the future. I have already been accepted to Stanford for this fall.”**

**“So, you're leaving the pack?” Malia asked sadly.**

**“No, I just won’t be here. I hope he understands that.”**

**Scott kept walking with them. He did understand; he understood both of them. He knew that this day might come.**

It was nights that were the worst. He had so much energy because he sat in the cell all day that he couldn’t sleep. He stared at the ceiling. Then there was that full moon. The people who ran the prison were going to be surprised when the walls and floors of his cell showed scratch marks, for while he tried to remain calm and trust in Stiles’ plan, the first full moon was terrible.

He was afraid, and it wasn’t the type of fear that he could focus into something useful. It was dread. What if Stiles was wrong? What if Mr. Adamson couldn’t beat the courts? What if he left everyone behind and had to stay in this horrible place for the rest of his life? In a way, it was easier to think about everyone else’s problems other than his own. 

**Liam lay on his bed, finally back in his own bedroom, staring at the ceiling. There was a knock on the door.**

**It was his step-dad. “May I come in?”**

**Liam nodded, but Scott watched him tense up. His room was spotlessly clean. It never had been the other times Scott had seen it. He wondered what that was about.**

**Dr. Geyer came and sat down on the bed. “Liam, is everything okay? Your mother and I can’t help but notice that you’ve been very quiet.”**

**Liam stared up at the ceiling. “Everything’s fine.” That lie was fooling exactly no one.**

**“You know that’s not true,” Dr. Geyer explained. “We know what you’ve been through for more than a year now. We know what they’ve done to you. But I have to ask. Are you mad at us? Did you think we just forgot about you?”**

**“No!” Liam sat up straight. “I thought … I hoped you thought I ran away. I didn’t want you to worry about me.”**

**“We’re your parents, Liam. It’s our job to worry about you. And we never thought you ran away. You were kidnapped, Liam. That’s not your fault.”**

**“It is my fault,” Liam threw himself down his bed. When it became clear that his step-father wasn’t leaving, he started talking quietly. “I caused all of this. If I had told you about being bit, maybe you could have helped me. If I hadn’t tried to kill Scott, he wouldn’t have been so badly hurt, and he could have stopped Theo and the Doctors, and people would still be alive. I wouldn’t have been locked in that basement for five months. Scott wouldn’t be in prison; people wouldn’t think he was a serial killer.” He took a deep breath. “Mason would still be here.”**

**Scott and Liam saw Dr. Geyer frown when he mentioned Scott’s name. “You can’t blame him, dad. You can’t. All he ever did was try to do the right thing, and all I ever did was mess up.”**

**“I don’t want to say it’s all right what happened, but you’re still young, Liam. It’s all right to mess up.” Dr. Geyer tried to be reassuring. “As long as you learn from your mistakes.”**

**“I learned that I don’t deserve anything,” Liam rolled over. “Nothing I do will make up for this.”**

For two weeks, Scott learned how bad his life could be. He learned that his friends and his pack were suffering, and there was nothing he could do about it. He watched them and learned. He made plans that when he got out – _if he got out_ , a fearful voice whispered – to make sure Stiles slept and ate, to kiss Isaac a lot, to make sure Derek knew how much he respect him, to spend time with his mom, to be there when Chris finally proposed, to convince Liam that he wasn’t a mistake, to make sure Lydia knew she was pack no matter where she was, to let Malia know that she was still his friend. 

Unfortunately, on the fourteenth day of his time at the prison was the day that he realized he would have to die.


	25. Enemies to Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott learns that he must die at least once more. With the Beast of Gevaudan defeated and his pack reunited, he must decide on the next part of his life.

It was on the fourteenth day after his arrest that things changed. Mr. Adamson had been called in for what they both assumed was going to be another round of fruitless interrogation. Scott’s lawyer was as good as he boasted he was and the interrogations had been rather fruitless for the FBI. He had assured Scott that this was a good sign, as they were probably getting desperate for something substantial. 

Scott couldn’t hear a lie in his words, but he also realized that while things weren’t getting any worse, they weren’t getting any better. He was locked in stasis and so was everyone else. No one back home wanted to just leave while he was going through this. He asked Mr. Adamson for an estimate on how long this would take.

“Honestly? I can’t be sure. They’ve begun interviewing people in Beacon Hills. Your known associates. As long as no one sells you out, they should have run out of leads in two weeks. If they still don’t have enough to charge you, they’ll probably try to come at you by arresting others and calling them your accomplices.”

“What?” Scott didn’t realize this was a thing.

“It’ll happen, but it’ll be a move of desperation. You have to understand that the local bureau has become pretty heavily invested in your prosecution. If they can’t get a single conviction out of this, someone is going to lose their job.” At Scott’s face, Adamson shrugged. “I’d care more about them if they were paying me, but right now they’re the enemy.”

“Do you know what they’re doing today?” Scott asked. They had actually been taken to the local FBI office in Sacramento.

Adamson shrugged. “No, I don’t. But we have to stay firm. Remember rules one and two.” 

Scott nodded. He sat patiently, because at least he was out of his cell. 

The door opened and a single man entered; usually they came at them in pairs. Many of the agents he had met wore suits and looked like bureaucrats rather than police officers, but this man looked like some actor from a spy movie. He had brilliant blue eyes, perfectly coiffed gray hair, a strong aquiline nose, and a manner that immediately commanded the room. This was a person who was used to getting his own way.

The man glanced at the pair of them as if sizing them up before sitting down across the table. “Good afternoon, I am Abelard Mapother, Assistant Director of Special Investigations. Thank you for coming in this afternoon.”

Daniel Adamson glanced at Scott and then back at the Assistant Director. “There is no branch of the FBI presently called Special Investigations. I’ve never heard of an Abelard Mapother.”

“Well, I will admit it is an unusual name. My mother was fond of the classics.” Mapother didn’t seem disturbed by the accusations. “As for Special Investigations, the existence of this section is a secret. It is a special access program, which means it is classified above Top Secret.”

Scott wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he did hear Adamson’s heartbeat increase. Mapother’s heartbeat was steady. For some reason though, he smelled familiar to Scott, but he couldn’t quite place what the scent was.

“What can we do for you, Assistant Director?” His lawyer asked. Adamson tried to seem nonplussed.

“I am hoping to resolve this case relatively quickly,” said Mapother. “Both of you are aware of the unique situation that we have. Mr. McCall here is accused of being the second most prolific serial killer in the history of the United States, which seems ridiculous considering his young age. However, the evidence that the Bureau has gathered is significant.”

“And totally circumstantial,” Adamson countered. “You know that if you brought this case to court today, I’d rip it apart. You have opportunity, but you lack demonstrable motive and you certainly don’t have method. If you acknowledge the case is weak, you can end it.” 

Scott relaxed. Maybe this was the person that was going to be able to give him his life back.

“I’ll admit that I have the distinct feeling that the agents here were blinded by their desire for a conviction in the death of a fellow agent and allowed themselves to be led by the nose.” It sounded like the Assistant Director had been doing his own investigation. “Still, the amount of circumstantial evidence means that this is not going away. Even if every charge was dropped right now, this will follow you around for the rest of your life.”

Scott turned to Adamson. “Is this true?”

Adamson nodded. “My task is to keep you out of jail, but I can’t guarantee people are going to leave you alone, especially since someone _mysteriously_ leaked details to the press.” 

Mapother did not seem phased by that accusation either. “I’ll also admit that there has been some malfeasance on the part of the bureau, but that’s not my concern. My concern is different.” He picked up his phone, made a call and gave a simple instruction to turn off the recordings. 

“We can speak freely now. My concern is that the whole situation in Beacon Hills over the last few years has come perilously close to exposing the supernatural to the general public.” The assistant director shook his head. “That cannot be permitted to happen, Alpha McCall.”

“You know?” Scott demanded.

Adamson looked absolutely shocked. “If you are in the know, then you should be aware that the charges against my client are not only fabricated, but he has been actively attempting to prevent the things with which he has been charged.”

“I am fully aware of the nature of the situation in Beacon Hills. I’ve been monitoring the situation since Matt Daehler’s assault on the police station with the kanima.” Mapother turned to Scott. “I have to say that you’ve done all you can with a very poor hand, and you even managed to achieve True Alpha status. But Gerard Argent’s actions have endangered the veils of secrecy that must be maintained.”

Adamson frowned. He wasn’t prepared for this. Scott certainly wasn’t prepared for this either.

“How did you know about it?” Scott couldn’t believe this. Someone with actual power knew what was going on. “Why didn’t you help?”

“I helped as much as I could, young man,” Mapother replied. “Who do you think arranged for your father to be put in charge of the impeachment effort of the Sheriff when it was a clear conflict of interest? Who do you think arranged for Jordan Parrish to be transferred from Afghanistan to Beacon Hills in a couple of weeks, but with enough credentials to be hired as a deputy? I also managed to have the sheriff station bombing not classified as a terrorist act and kept the hospital massacre from being national news. I also made sure the Dead Pool didn’t draw the attention of the Bureau, and that your trips to Mexico had no problem with Border Patrol. I have certainly been helping, but there is a limit to what I can do.”

Mapother sighed. “As for how I know, Marin Morrell kept me within the loop for the most part.”

“Mrs. Morrell?” Scott realized what this meant. “You’re an emissary!”

“I happen to be a Druid, but I am not an Emissary. I’m not beholden to any pack or any other organization. I do what I have always done: maintain the Balance. And you, young man, are endangering that balance.” Mapother raised a hand to stop their objections. “I mean that there is too much evidence in the hands of the mundane authorities. Even were I to use my considerable influence to get them to drop the charges, there would be those out there wondering why I did so. The only way to remove the threat is to remove you. If you were dead, it all becomes moot.”

Scott blinked. He felt his stomach lurch and sink. It was not only because an obviously powerful man was saying he was going to have to die, but it sounded so reasonable coming out of the Assistant Director’s mouth. He glanced over to his lawyer who had seemed to lock his face into a permanent frown. “That’s not fair,” he whispered. 

Mapother looked unimpressed. “I’m not interested in fairness. I’m not interested in justice. I’m interested in maintaining the Balance, which protects not only the people of the mundane world, but also those of the supernatural world. I am not, however, a monster. So I have an alternative for you.”

Mapother reached into his suit jacket and pull out a vial. “Before you leave this room, I am going to have you drink this. You’ve read your Romeo and Juliet right? Think of me as your Friar Lawrence. On the way out of the building, you’ll make a break for it. You, of course, will not get far. You’ll be killed in the escape attempt, caught on camera. However, you know as well as I do your healing capabilities, and I will make sure you are totally safe before this wears off.” 

“And if he refuses?” demanded Adamson. Scott was going to say something similar but he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“I’ll have him killed in his sleep.” Mapother said in a business-like tone. “This trial cannot happen. The evidence compiled against him must be eliminated. Only by rendering the whole fiasco moot will this occur. And, Mr. Adamson, you know damn well that if I am willing to kill a True Alpha to protect the balance, killing an over-priced lawyer is nothing to me.” He was totally terrifying in his surety. 

“How do I know that you are telling the truth? How do I know that this isn’t a poison that’s going to kill me anyway?” Scott stood up, eyes flashing. “You’re telling me I have to give up everything or you’ll murder me? Why don’t I just tear my way right out of this building right _now_?”

“Two reasons, Alpha McCall. You’ve never put your own well-being before the good of others before. You’re not selfish and you’re not unintelligent. If you were willing to endanger so many people because you’ve been wronged, you wouldn’t be who you are today.” Mapother stood up. “As for the second reason, I’d have to stop you.” In return, the Assistant Director’s eyes went white on white on white. 

Adamson paled. “You’re a darach.” 

Scott did not pale. He did not flinch. He growled, but he knew that Mapother was right about him. He turned to Adamson. “Is what he saying true? As far as you can tell? I know he isn’t lying, but he could be controlling his heartbeat.”

Mapother let his eyes go normal. “I’m not quite a darach; there are other ways to gain power other than the sacrifice of innocents. In my case, I draw power from the punishment of the wicked.” 

Adamson looked more shaken than he had been. He was only human, and he had just been caught between an angry alpha and an intimidating whatever-the-hell Mapother was. “I can’t fault the Assistant Director’s logic. If I wasn’t concerned with _justice,_ , I would agree with him. If you died, interest in the case would vanish. You’d be posthumously assumed to be a serial killer and a monster, you understand. With no trial, the press would simply hang that on you, with all the ‘alledgeds’ they could find.”

Scott turned back to Mapother. “I just want to go to college, is that too much to ask?”

“Yes,” said Mapother. “It is.” He placed the vial on the table. “You might certainly be able to go college, I think, just under another name. If it helped, think of this as another transformation.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Scott picked up the vial and studied it. 

******

Dying for the fourth time – Scott actually had to count to himself to make sure it was only the fourth time – was surprisingly easy. Maybe it was the potion that Mapother had given him. Maybe it dulled the pulse-pounding fear that he was actually being led to a real death; at long last his true death. Maybe it stopped the gunfire from hurting so much. Maybe it was just the fact that he was so tired of it all. It certainly felt like falling asleep, only with bullets.

He wasn’t sure why he had accepted the whole plan to fake his death so readily. Maybe he was ready to just stop being Scott McCall. He had thought that when he had awoken from his coma that it was as low as he could go and that everything afterwards would be … better. 

Then he realized that it was just another sacrifice to stop those who would hurt others. All the people that had twisted him, hurt him, forced him to be something he wasn’t. Maybe they thought they had won. They had obliterated Scott McCall. But they hadn’t, because he knew that inside, he was still himself. It sounded stupid, which is why never said it aloud, but it felt right.

******

Things were going to be different. 

It turns out the Assistant Director Mapother, whatever the hell he was, was also a man of his word. He woke up twenty-four hours later in Deaton’s house in Beacon Hills. The bullets had all been removed and he felt like he had just woke up from a long nap.

The first person he spoke to was his mother. He apologized to her for everything he had done to her, because he knew that he would never, ever be able to make up what he had done. She’d lost her ex-husband and she’d as good as lost her son. He knew he couldn’t stay in Beacon Hills.

The second person he spoke to was Stiles. They didn’t actually speak much at all. They just sat in the same room for about an hour, looking at each other. At the end, Scott reached out his hand and said: “I need you.” Stiles took it. It wasn’t a magical fix to their problems, but it was a start.

The third person he spoke to was Isaac. There was even less speaking going on, to be truthful, but in the end there were promises made. These were promises that Scott intended to keep.

To Chris Argent, he made sure that the man knew he didn’t hold his father’s deeds against him. To Deaton and Derek, he outlined his plans and sought their approval. To Lydia, he assured her that wherever she went, she would be pack and all she had to do was call. To Malia, he assured that whatever she did, she would be pack, no matter what differences she had with him. To Liam, he promised that things would get better, that he’d never regret being his friend or his alpha. 

After he had spent some time alone with each person, he called them altogether for a pack meeting. It happened in Dr. Deaton’s living room. There was an air of farewell in it, because everyone knew that it was indeed a farewell. Lydia was going to join her mother. Braeden, Malia, and Derek were going to continue their quest to find the Desert Wolf. Dr. Deaton, Chris Argent, his mother, and Liam were going to remain in Beacon Hills. Someone had to watch the Nemeton since he couldn’t any more. As far as Scott, Stiles and Isaac? They were leaving. Scott wasn’t sure where they were going, but he knew they had to go away. 

Scott stood in the center of the room after he had gotten everyone’s attention. “At career day, I was told that potential employers ask you ‘Where do you see yourself in five years?’ They’re trying to figure out if what you want works with what they want, but it’s a pretty stupid question, if you ask me. I don’t think anyone ever knows exactly where they want to be in five years. You can ask someone one day and they’ll tell you one thing, and you can ask that same person the next day and it will have changed.” He smiled at Isaac. “I can tell you what, if I got everything I wanted, what my life five years from now would be. I’d have a house, and too many small dogs, and someone waiting for me when I got home from working at an animal clinic with a man I respect the most among all the people at the world.” He nodded at Deaton who nodded back. “When I got home, I’d think about how long it would be before I could give my mom grandchildren.”

Scott took a deep breath. “But that’s not what is going to happen. Maybe some of it will, but I’m not going to be a vet. I’m not going to have a house in Beacon Hills. I’m not going to have an army of small dogs. It’s not realistic, with everything that’s happened. To everyone else in the world, Scott McCall is a dead serial killer. That’s not going to change without me putting my life before a whole other lot of people’s, and I just can’t do that. So I have to decide what I am going to do. You know, I could try to find some bar south of the border and see how much I’d need to drink to actually feel it. Or I could just give up.”

“But someone who I’ve come to trust taught me an important lesson.” He went over and put his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “He taught me that the past makes us what we are, but it has absolutely no control over what we choose to do next; only we have that power. So, the past has made me what I am right now, but I am going to choose how to move forward.”

“This is what I am going to do; this is what my pack is going to do. I’m not going to resent you if you don’t want to follow me. The first thing we are going to do is I and my pack are going to find a way to keep that damn tree stump from bringing any more supernatural troublemakers here. I won’t be able to be here while that happens, but somewhere in the world, that knowledge exists. I’m sure of it.” He paused. “And while I’m doing that, I’m going to learn. I’m going to learn all the things about being a werewolf I’ve put off. I’m going to learn how to fight. I’m going to learn how to do research. I’m going to learn who and what is out there, who I can trust and who I can’t.” He looks over at Braeden and smiled fondly. “Somehow, while doing this, I’ll do what I have to eat. But I won’t be doing that for an end to itself.”

“People I trust and respect have told me that the universe has a way of balancing itself. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it’s easy to take comfort in that if you want to. There are people out there – people like Peter, Kate, Gerard, Theo, and the Desert Wolf – who think they are entirely justified in destroying other people’s lives to get what they want. Well, my life has been destroyed; it doesn’t help pretending that it hasn’t. But now, I have nothing to do with the rest of my life but finding them and people like them and putting an end to their ways. There’s a balance there.” He looked at each person in the face. “So that’s what I am going to do. I’m going to save those people that I can, and I am going to stop anyone, human or beast, who thinks that … “ Scott floundered until he remember a speech from Romeo and Juliet. “I will stop these rebellious subjects, these _enemies to peace_.”

He could tell that some of the people in the room understood and that some people didn’t. “That’s my plan. I’m not going to force anyone to go with me. But if you are going with me, let’s get to work.” He looked around at his family and friends – the people he loved. 

It wasn’t the best future, but it wouldn’t be the worst, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to extend this into a series, as this is a good stopping place. I realize now that the death of the Beast was the climax of this story, and this is just the denouement, so I apologize if it seemed a little anti-climatic. Next story will be better. 
> 
> I will take some time to finish some other stories, but expect the next series before the beginning of the year! In order to let you know that it is happening, I'll add an epilogue to this story.


	26. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To serve as a bridge to the next installment of the series "Enemies to Peace," I proudly present this epilogue. Eight months after the "death" of Scott McCall at the hands of the FBI, Scott, Stiles, and Isaac are training south of the border. It's Christmastime!

The half moon stood silent and thoughtful above the Pacific Ocean when Scott left the small house that was on their side of the compound. The night was cool for Baja California Sur not only because of the ocean but because of the rapid cooling of the desert. He could still hear the sounds of “Joy to the World” on the stereo in the living room. He could still smell the hot cider in the kitchen. It had surprised him when he had learned that Isaac was extraordinarily fond of the season. Even though the compound was designed for survival training, they had made an effort to make the house festive. After all, it was Christmas Eve.

In the dark a few days ago, Isaac had whispered to him that even during the bad times, Mr. Lahey had always been more like his old self during this season. Since then, Isaac had looked forward to it like birds look forward to spring. 

Scott kept walking up the beach towards the small light he saw, winking in the darkness. It was indeed a small campfire, and Scott wondered where Stiles had gotten firewood in the middle of the Mexican desert. It was then he realized this was where two of the kitchen chairs had gone.

“Damnit, Stiles,” he muttered. 

It was nearly a half-mile up the beach when he comes across the low fire made out of furniture of a house that they were just borrowing, watched over by a friend who had managed to polish off half a bottle of damiana. Scott wasn’t sure where he had gotten the alcohol from, though he knew it had been made locally.

It was pathetically easy to approach Stiles without being noticed. It was as if they hadn’t spent all the time after leaving Beacon Hills training with various people – packs, emissaries, and hunters. Scott guessed that was the point for his friend tonight. By drinking alone, out in the open, with no defenses, Stiles was giving the universe the equivalent of the finger.

Stiles was sprawled out with his legs toward the dying fire. He was gazing past the flames, past the moonlight on the ocean, past the turn of days. Memories were always terrible things. When he finally realized Scott was looming above him, he gave a wide, drunken smile. “Hortensio!” 

Scott sighed. If there had been anything that had lifted Stiles’ spirits since leaving home, it had been Scott’s new identity. Everyone but him believed that using the name of one of Araya’s deceased nephews would be _just perfect_. Scott had tried to point out that he looked nothing like any member of her family and that assuming all Latinos looked alike was racist, but he had been overruled. He had also tried to argue that every single time he and the Calaveras had interacted it had involved death threats, gun shots, torture or all of the above, he did not want to be treated like one of their family. However, since the nephew had been one of them sent after Kate at La Iglesias and no one had ever found the body, it was the perfect legal identity for him to assume. So, after a great deal of bitching, he had become Hortensio Calavera. 

Every time since that day that he had run into Araya, she had simply smiled her infuriating and cruel little smile and chuckled. _Every. Single. Time._

Stiles was the only person who could make fun of it without pissing Scott off. Secretly, it was because when he got into a roll on it, he sounded like the Old Stiles, and Scott missed that person more than almost anyone else in the whole wide world.

“Hortensio!” The very, very drunk Stiles held up the bottle. “You here to drink with me?” 

“You know I can’t get drunk, Stiles.” He did sit down next to him. “I came out here to see what you were doing.”

“Ooooooooooooh. Am I in trouble? Am I gonna get spanked?” Stiles took another sip of the liquor. “I could be up for that.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Maybe. Do I want to know why you burned some of the kitchen chairs? They’re not actually ours, you know.” 

“I wanted a fire. You can’t sit about by the ocean on Christmas Eve without a fire. It’s simply …” Stiles hiccupped. “It’s simply not done. And since we’re in the middle of the Vizcaíno Desert there aren’t any trees!” He actually managed to pronounce the name right, despite how much he had had to drink. They had all picked up some Spanish since they had come here. 

Scott breathed out. “Okay.” He turned and watched the moon-lit waves down by the beach. Stiles fell silent as well, pausing only a moment to take a drink from the bottle. There had been a time when Stiles couldn’t go for long without talking seeking to fill up the terrifying silences with words. Now, though, words held their own terror, so he was far quieter than he used to be.

Scott listened to Stiles’ heartbeat as they sat in silence. It didn’t seem disturbed. Hopefully the liquor had helped him get over whatever reason he had to come out here in the middle of the night. They were in staying at a hunter’s compound, but he could still get hurt. He could still fall asleep in the cold night of the desert, and that could lead to illness or hypothermia.

Stiles suddenly whispered. “I didn’t want to be a third wheel.”

Scott closed his eyes; Stiles had the habit of thinking he didn’t belong. “You weren’t a third wheel. Isaac and I were watching “It’s a Wonderful Life”, not making out.”

They fell back into silence. It had become their thing, this silence, over the last months. Where once they had been so close that they finished each others’ sentences, now they, more often than not, kept a lack of conversation between them. It was a thing they both cherished because it covered the things that were not talked about. 

It would have been past midnight and thus Christmas Day and the fire was beginning to turn into embers when Stiles spoke up again. “This is my first Christmas without him. Technically, last Christmas was without him, but it wasn’t actually a Christmas, y’know? They put a little two-foot tree in the library and the visitor room and you get something like roast beef, but that really isn’t Christmas. It’s like torture – see, here is what you’re missing because you’re in jail. So I don’t count that.” 

Scott glanced over at him. Stiles had placed the bottle to the side, done drinking for now. The fire threw his face into relief.

“We never really did much. We had dinner with you and your mom. We watched the football games. We watched stupid movies. Half the time, we didn’t even put up decorations. But it was still Christmas. We knew it was Christmas, and it was time we spent together.” Stiles rubbed at his eyes. 

Scott knew this already. He also had an inkling of what this would feel like, as this would be the first Christmas he had ever spent away from home. They had always had a Christmas tree; it was a garish plastic monstrosity that was kept in the attic. He wondered if his mother had tried to bring it down herself. Just because he wasn’t getting drunk in the middle of the night on a desert beach in Mexico didn’t mean it wasn’t going to hurt.

They did not speak again. The fire kept dying, turning from the flickering yellow to a dying orange to cracked coals with red glowing on the edges. It must have been an hour since Scott had first sought Stiles out. He could tell that while Stiles had slowed how much he had been drinking, he still kept the bottle near.

The moon had set early that night, disappearing into the ocean, leaving only the light of the stars. Scott could still see Stiles well enough, but he knew that Stiles could no longer see him. 

“I hate you,” Stiles said into the darkness. His face was composed and his eyes closed. 

Scott let out a breath loud enough that he knew Stiles could hear it. This was something that was not talked about.

“I hate that you’re here and he’s not.” Stiles spoke without sneering, without contempt. The words were like knives in his ears, but they weren’t designed to hurt. “I hate that you being what you are put my dad in harm’s way. I want to blame you for that. It would be so much easier if I could blame you.”

Scott did not know what to say. He listened to Stiles’ heartbeat. It was steady. There were no lies.

“I hate you because you let Theo go when you know he’s responsible for my father’s death. I hate you because your precious morality was more important than making him pay.” Stiles sniffled. “I hate that you had your reasons. He was like a father to you as well.”

Scott wanted to explain. He wanted to say that he hadn’t even thought of his father when he had finally defeated Theo. It hadn’t occurred to him that he even should take revenge for the sheriff.

Stiles wasn’t finished. “I hate you because you don’t hate me. You don’t hate me for Donovan. You don’t hate me for the coma. You don’t hate me for the terrible things I said to you. I hate that you don’t blame me for your father.” In a tone of exasperation, he went on. “I noticed it hasn’t even occurred to you that if I hadn’t lashed out at you, _your_ father might still be alive.” 

Scott shook his head. That was not even remotely Stiles’ fault. 

“I hate you because you are a better person than me.” Stiles said, the quietest he had been.

Scott reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. Stiles tried to shake it off. “Don’t even say you aren’t. I know what I am and what I’m capable of.” 

Scott didn’t let go of his shoulder. Stiles couldn’t shake him off unless he really, really wanted to get violent, and Scott wasn’t ashamed one minute for using his greater strength. He knew that Stiles meant every word he said.

“You know I’m your friend, no matter what. How …?” Scott couldn’t finish his sentence. How do I make this better? How do I fix this?

“You can’t leave,” Stiles said with feeling. “No matter what I say, you can never leave.”

“Okay. We’ve always been great together; we always will.” He stood up and pulled Stiles up with him. “And you can hate me all you want. Let’s go back.”

They started walking back to the house, the spell of that strange moment broken, the guards back in place.

“One more thing …” Stiles spoke up. Scott looked over at him.

“Merry Christmas, Hortensio.” 

“Merry Christmas, Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damiana is an actual liquor made in Baja California Sur.
> 
> I knew a wonderful young man with the name of "Hortensio." He pronounced his name this way Or-tanz-ee-oh.
> 
> This epilogue serves as the bridge to the next installment of the series, "Eurydice's Stepchildren."


End file.
